


Atomic Shadow and the Titanium Vengeance

by captainkippen



Category: Andi Mack (TV)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Fake Science, M/M, Minor Character Death, Minor Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-30
Updated: 2020-03-15
Packaged: 2020-03-29 20:13:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 30,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19027111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainkippen/pseuds/captainkippen
Summary: Cyrus Goodman just wants to get through high school in one piece, but that’s a lot easier said than done when the universe seems to have other plans.After moving to New York to attend a state of the art science academy, Cyrus finds himself entangled in a world of violence, superpowers and dangerous plots. In the middle of it all is T.J. Kippen, an angry young inventor, and Cyrus soon finds himself falling harder than he ever has before.





	1. A Message From Above

_**Utah, 2009.** _

The heavens were a mystery to the people of earth. A distant dream - untouchable, unknown and unexplored. In the deep vastness of the cosmos, stars twinkled and spun, but they were not to be reached by human hands. Not yet, at least. They lit up the sky and guarded the planets around them, making those who had yet to meet them up close stare in wonder.

Far below, in the long country grass of an old farm’s land, six-year-old Cyrus Goodman giggled to himself. The voice of his father, Norman, echoed, distant and amused, from where he stood in the faint glow of the porch light gazing out into the darkness. It was a game they often played before Cyrus went to bed in the summer - adventures in childhood hide and seek - his favourite next to playing dress-up. 

“I’m gonna get you!” His father called, hunching over in a poor imitation of how he supposed a monster might walk and stepping out into the field. Cyrus giggled as he listened to him growl playfully, then clamped a hasty hand over his own mouth. Norman was getting much closer now, pretending he couldn’t see the top of Cyrus’ little head peeking out from where he crouched. “Fee-fi-fo-fum! I smell the blood of… a little one!”

Norman lunged through the grass and grabbed at his son, Cyrus screeching loudly with laughter as he twisted out of his grip and darted away. He headed for the dense thicket of trees which lined the edge of the property. Norman’s promises to catch him followed, and the harder Cyrus’ giggles came the harder he found himself running. 

“Wait!” Called Norman, even further back than before now, raspy and out of breath. “Cyrus, wait!”

But in that typical fashion of six-year-olds, Cyrus did not listen. The tree-line promised a new adventure, a place to explore, and he had never been into the woods in the dark before. Certain his father would not be far behind, he continued on smiling gleefully the whole way and did not notice when the world fell silent around him. The fireflies that hung around the field, blinking in and out of existence in the air, disappeared from sight entirely. 

The further he went the darker the trees grew, and he slowed his pace in sudden uncertainty. It was too quiet in the trees. There were too many shadows. It struck him at once that there could be anything in here… vampires, werewolves, all kinds of Halloween creatures from the stories on his father’s shelf that he wasn’t meant to read because his mother told him he was too small for them. He had read them anyway, without really understanding them much, but it was enough to place a trembling worry in his little mind. Looking around he found he wasn’t sure which way was the right way back to the house. He was lost.

The uncertainty grew, and he found himself sniffling. 

_ Don’t cry, _ he told himself sternly.  _ Big boys don’t cry. _

He kind of wanted to cry anyway.

But then, as he turned, just up ahead he spotted a dim break in the trees where a little light shone through. It must be the light of the farmhouse. It must be. He started towards it, but as he drew closer he found it wasn’t the light of the house at all. It was merely a clearing in the trees, wide and open, but completely empty. The light had just been the faint stream of white left trailing across the ground by the moon. It cast strange shadows on the trees around him. He sniffled again. He wanted his dad. It wasn’t fun being all alone out here.

Then the rumbling came. It was distant and terrifying, and when Cyrus looked up he saw an unusual light in the sky. It was no moon, it was not a star, it was a bright yellow ball in the heavens and it grew bigger the longer he looked.

Wait, it wasn’t growing. No… it was just getting  _ closer. _

The rumbling turned to a thundering, rushing sound came above him and as he gazed up in terror the sky blazed to life in a spectacular explosion of bright orange light, then with the destructive force of a stumbling giant, something heavy made impact. 

**_BOOM!_ **

Cyrus screamed and threw himself back, cowering behind a rock as the ground shook. It only went on for a few moments, but from where he was curled up it felt like a lifetime. The world around him felt as if it were collapsing in on itself - hot, too hot, and blinding. 

Then it stopped. As sudden as it had started, the apocalypse came to an end, and as the dust began to settle Cyrus peered out from behind where his hands covered his face. Before him, not even twenty feet away, where there had been nothing but empty space just a few minutes ago, a large smoking crater had been gorged into the earth. Small patches of flame sputtered and burned around the edges. It reminded Cyrus of something out of the stories his father read him before bed, the kind where aliens invaded and people went to war with space. Fear trickled down his spine. Dimly, he knew he knew should get up and run. He should head back through the trees, find his father, and return to where he was safe. He staggered to his feet, fully intending to do just that when something caught his attention.

The centre of the crater  _ glowed _ . 

As if an invisible hook had been sunk into his chest, he was pulled forward by an unseen force and found himself stumbling towards it. The common sense seated deep in the back of his mind was screaming at him to turn back, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself. He walked right up to the edge.

Around him, the air filled with a strange whispering in a language he could not quite understand. The source of the glow, once Cyrus’ eyes had adjusted enough to see what was going on properly, appeared to be a rock about the size of his fist. It was pulsing - green, white, black. It switched between the colours in an orderly fashion. The hay glow seemed to surround the crater like a shimmering bubble. This was nothing like anything Cyrus had ever seen before. 

“Hello?” He called to it, against his better judgement. 

The whispering grew louder.

Not knowing what else to say, the feeling of terror fading fast as an unusual sense of calm fell over him, he asked, “Are you an alien?”

The whispers grew no more intelligible, but the pull in his chest grew stronger. The edges of the light glimmered like the light of the fireflies. He reached out a curious hand.

**_FLASH!_ **

_...A head-splitting pain, like nothing he’s ever felt. He’s somewhere else - somewhere bright white and vaguely familiar - his skin feels electrified... _

**_FLASH!_ **

_...His reflection stares back at him with wide eyes, he is older and more frightened than he’s ever been, his hands almost seem to burn... _

**_FLASH!_ **

_...He’s falling through the air… no, he’s  _ jumping,  _ from hundreds of feet in the air and hurtling towards the ground at an impossible speed... _

**_FLASH!_ **

_...Green eyes, anger, hatred, grief. They consume him... _

Cyrus wrenched his hand back with a scream and tripped over his feet in his hurry to escape. The whispering continued to call to him but he fought it off with all his might. He ran, and he ran, and he ran. Back through the trees his went, arms whipped violently by branches as he pushed through, back across the field. His feet hit the ground hard and his lungs felt as if they were on fire. Up ahead he could now see the  _real_ light of the house - windows all burning bright from the bulbs inside. Relieved tears filled his eyes.

“Cyrus?! Cyrus!” Arms closed around him and pulled him up into the air. He buried his face in his father’s chest as he sobbed “Oh thank the lord, Leslie! Leslie, I’ve got him!”

“Aliens,” Cyrus choked out through his sobs. “Aliens.”

But his father didn’t seem to hear. He just stroked his hair, held him tight, and told him everything would be alright.

If only he knew.


	2. Losers Don't Belong

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on tumblr or twitter @captainkippen

**_New York, 2019._ **

* * *

 

New York was a city of uncertainty and the only thing permanent about it was that it didn’t feel like home.

It had been a month since Cyrus had arrived on the East Coast and if he was honest with himself he wasn’t entirely sure what he was doing there. Well, technically he _knew,_ but it didn’t feel real. If someone had told him this time last year that he’d be spending the rest of his high school career over two-thousand miles away from his hometown and parents because he was _smart_ he would have laughed.

The Kippen & Co. Foundation Scholarship went out to only a select number of students across the world every year. It offered those students the chance to move to New York and paid for them to attend one of, if not _the,_ best science academies in the country - Shadyside. Somehow, on some unbelievable stroke of luck, Cyrus had received it just a few months prior. He had submitted a paper on the future of clean energy along with his application and apparently that had impressed the foundation’s board. The idea of anything Cyrus was responsible for being responsible was downright ridiculous to him, but apparently, it made sense to everyone else.

He had thought his parents had been making a joke the first time they sat him down to tell him his application had been successful and laughed it off, but then it had turned out to be _true._ Shadyside was as impressive as everyone had promised it to be. The academy itself was huge, with large echoing halls and state of the art facilities. It was such a maze of distractions, from display cases filled with awards and photographs of rich donors to rooms filled with equipment public schools could only dream of, that Cyrus had spent the first few weeks in attendance getting hopelessly lost every time he tried to find his next class. He still wasn’t quite used to it.

Despite the fact he’d been reassured (numerous times) that his presence there wasn’t an error he was still hesitant to believe it. Actually attending Shadyside had only increased that feeling of doubt. A part of him still wanted to call up the administrators and tell them _‘You’ve made a mistake. You’ve got the wrong guy!’_ every morning when he woke up in his Bubbe’s apartment.

At least that was one comfort in this overwhelming new life of his - his Bubbe Rose. She had been living in New York since Cyrus could remember, and she had jumped at the chance to have him when they realised he would need somewhere to live. It made more sense for him to stay with her than have both his parents relocate too, so he did just that. The crumbling old Brooklyn brownstone was far from glamorous - definitely nothing like the fancy upstate apartments most of his new classmates lived in - but the apartment inside was cosy and filled with the familiar scents of his childhood. Having his Bubbe around was maybe the only thing keeping him from going insane - her enthusiasm for his education and belief in his talent was reassuring. On his first day of school, she had rushed him out the door talking about taking advantage of the opportunities life was giving him and how he deserved to be there just as much as anyone else.

_“This is a once in a lifetime chance!”_ She had said as she’d shoved his lunch bag into his hand. _“This is your chance to make the world a better place. That’s what we’re put on this earth to do.”_

She had been right, of course, and he had needed that reassurance. He just wished he had her level of confidence that he belonged. Especially when facing his classmates.

Shadyside was first and foremost a place for the intelligent _and_ rich. It was filled to the brim with teenage ego that was only boosted by wealth and spoiled behaviour. The hallways were a fashion show of designer brands and flashy technology. Cyrus felt distinctly out of place with his beat up Android and khakis from Target. It didn’t help that he’d been struggling to make friends. Talking to new people without coming across as a babbling lunatic was not one of his finer skills and the thought of just sitting down with a random group at lunch filled him with bone-shaking terror. It’s not that his classmates were particularly unpleasant or anything, he just didn’t know how to approach them.

Well, most of them were not particularly unpleasant anyway. Some of them seemed to go out of their way to be awful.

Reed Wilson was a nightmare wrapped in Tommy Hilfiger.

Cyrus’ first encounter with Reed was being knocked into a trashcan on his way to class. At first, he’d believed it to be an accident, but then Reed had turned and smirked.

“Sorry,’ he’d said, not sounding sorry at all. “Nice sweater.”

He’d been wearing a sweater that his Bubbe had knitted for his birthday a few years ago. The sound of Reed’s sneer and the snickers of the boys accompanying him was etched into Cyrus’ mind. His face burned at the thought of it. So, yeah, Reed _sucked._

Now, Cyrus was watching as he proved that statement true yet again.

He was crossing the courtyard after the final bell, eager to get home and not paying much attention to his surroundings when it happened. He might have been zoned out, but it was hard not to notice a large crowd of students laughing and chanting _‘FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT!’_ right by the gates. At first, he was determined to ignore it. It was none of his business if some idiots were throwing fists, but then over the heads of the crowd, he saw what was going on.

It wasn’t really much of a fight.

Reed was stood in the centre, as was to be expected really, but there was no one squaring up to him. Instead, Cyrus could see a freshman - Gus something -  a tiny ginger kid whose name he had picked up after witnessing him getting food dumped on him in the cafeteria more than once, hanging in the air by his ankle.

_Reed had this kid by the ankle._ That shouldn’t have been possible.

Then he saw it.

Reed’s arm was wrapped in an intricate bind of shining metal and wires. Lights along the edge of it lit up blue. The contraption was supporting his arm, _enhancing_ it, like something right off the space station. He was laughing. Gus was pleading to be let down. Cyrus’ fists clenched.

_It’s not my business,_ he thought. But he knew better. To is credit, he only hesitated for a minute. He could see his Bubbe’s disapproving look in his mind at the very thought of turning around and walking away. The kid was all alone. He had to do _something_.

“Hey!” Cyrus said, hurrying forward against his better judgement. “Hey! Leave him alone!”

The crowd parted a little to let him through and the chanting fell quiet. Slowly, Reed turned to look at him. There were two boys just behind him, a brunette who looked entirely too amused by the proceedings and a tall blonde boy who shifted uncertainly and refused to meet Cyrus’ eyes. They were the two that were always with Reed, often laughing at his jokes and encouraging him. They were just as bad as him, as far as Cyrus could see. He folded his arms and tried to put on his best disapproving glare.

“Problem, Goodman?” Reed asked, mouth stretching into a predatory grin.

“Yeah, leave that kid alone. He’s had enough.”

“Aw, man. Don’t be such a killjoy. C’mon, we’re just playing around. Aren’t we, Gus?” He shook Gus where he hung in the air. Gus let out a pathetic whimper. His face was bright red from being upside down. If he stayed like that much longer Cyrus was pretty sure he’d black out. “See? Just fooling around.”

Frustration flared up inside him. “Why don’t you pick on someone your own size? Put him down!”

“Hm,” Reed pretended to think about it for a moment, then flashed that nasty smile again. “Okay.” 

He dropped Gus. Cyrus flinched as he hit the floor with a loud thud, but didn’t have time to move forward and check if he was okay before Reed was coming towards him. The metal on his arm flashed in the sunlight and before Cyrus could duck away Reed had the front of his shirt in his hand. His grip was unnaturally tight. The metal around his arm lit up even brighter than it had before, a whirring sound came from it like it was charging up.

“You’re my size, right, Goodman?” He asked.

And then he threw him.

Cyrus hit the ground hard and felt all the wind knocked from him. Reed kicked at his legs.

“C’mon, get up,” he demanded.

Cyrus struggled to his feet only to be knocked down again by a blow to his ribs. Pain blossomed across his body and he groaned. Reed pulled his leg back to kick him once more and-

“That’s enough!” A voice rang out through the crowd.

Reed stopped. Everyone turned.

Two girls were marching towards them with matching looks of anger on their faces. One of them crouched down to check on Gus where he was sprawled on the floor and the other, the one who had called out, faced Reed with a look of fury. She had a head full of bouncing curls and gave off an intimidating air the even Reed seemed to recoil from.

“Driscoll,” he nodded at her. "Don't you ever get bored of being a crusader for the losers 'round here?"

"Don't you ever get bored of being a total dick?" She fired back, then she turned her gaze on the blonde boy behind him. "You think it's funny to use your tech this way, TJ? Think it makes you look cool to let your friends use it to bully people? Your brother would be ashamed."

TJ shrugged. "Don't be such a drag, Driscoll. It's not a good look on you."

Reed laughed. She glared at him. He only managed to hold her gaze for a few seconds before he sighed and turned to his friends.

“Let’s go,” he muttered to them, and they departed. The crowd around them dispersed quickly after that. Cyrus sighed in relief and let his head thunk back against the floor. Well, that was suitably humiliating.

The girls pulled him to his feet. The one with the hair brushed some dirt off his shoulder for him while the other grabbed his dropped messenger bag from the floor.

“That was stupid,” the first girl told him. “Brave, but a stupid thing to do. Reed’s going to have it out for you now.”

“Better than him having it out for someone else,” Cyrus shrugged, taking his bag from the other girl with a grateful smile.

“You’re an idiot.”

Cyrus opened his mouth to defend himself but she cut him off.

“We could use more idiots like you around here. Everyone’s too afraid to stand up to Reed - they’re afraid his daddy’ll sue them. If you’re going to keep making him mad you could at least use some backup. I’m Buffy,” she said and held out her hand. He gave it an uncertain shake. “And this is Andi.”

The other girl - Andi - flashed a smile and gave him a little wave. He smiled back and readjusted the strap on his shoulder.

“I’m Cyrus. Uh, Cyrus Goodman.”

“Nice to meet you, Cyrus,” Buffy smiled.

Andi was looking at him with a curious expression. “Cyrus Goodman… I’ve heard that name before. Where are you from?”

“Uh, Utah? I’m here on-”

“-Scholarship,” the girls finished for him, both of their eyes lighting up in understanding all of a sudden.

“You’re the kid who wrote that paper on using nanoparticles in biotechnology as a clean light source, right?” Andi asked excitedly.

Cyrus was taken aback. He knew some of his new teachers might have read his paper, but he didn’t think any of the students would. Why would they?

“That’s me,” he confirmed, blushing a little.

Andi bounced on her feet and words spilt from her mouth in a flurry. “Awesome! I read it over the summer. I really liked your argument on how it would make the streets safer for the homeless. Is biotech your special interest, or are you just into bioluminescence- _ow!_ ”

She rubbed her shoulder where it had been punched and shot Buffy an offended look. Buffy rolled her eyes.

“Sorry about her,” Buffy said to Cyrus. “She gets kind of nerdy about this stuff. Likes to talk. Forgets other people work at a different speed.”

Andi frowned at her but turned back to Cyrus with an apologetic look. “We’re interns over at Kippen and Co. Labs,” she explained.

Understanding hit Cyrus fast. Ah. That made sense.

Kippen and Co. Laboratories were one of the country’s leading companies in the development of clean energy and environmental technology. Their work on reversing climate change and CO2 emissions were unparalleled. They were also the sponsors that provided the scholarship he was on and funded Shadyside. Cyrus had dreams of working for them one day.

Andi’s excitement suddenly seemed very infectious.

“So you guys actually work at the labs?”

“Yep!” Andi nods.

“Wow, that’s- what do you do? Do you get to work on anything or-”

“Well, we don’t do that much,” Buffy said. “Mostly just getting coffee and admin stuff, but sometimes we get to sit in an observe on experiments. And Max likes to ask us what we think-”

“Max?” Cyrus asked, eyes widening. “As in Max _Kippen? The_ Max Kippen?”

Max Kippen was the eldest son of the doctors Richard and Emily Kippen, the founders and head scientists at the company in question. At twenty-three he was already in charge of an entire research division for clean energy. Much like his parents, Max was a certified genius.

Andi nodded. “You know, his brother T.J. actually goes here.”

“He’s kind of the worst,” Buffy said.

“Really?”

“He’s friends with Reed,” Andi said with a disappointed shake of her head. “Plus, Buffy hates him because he won in the science fair last year.”

Cyrus raised an amused eyebrow at Buffy and she folded her arms with a huff. “It’s not that he won. It’s that he _always_ wins. It’s totally just because the school wants to suck up to his parents…”

Andi snorted. “Well, they do _fund_ the school. But his project was actually pretty good… he built this robot thing… I don’t know, but he’s really smart,” she leaned in conspiratorially. “Buffy’s just jealous.”

Buffy moved to punch her again but Andi stepped out of the way with a wide grin.

“ _Anyway_ ,” Buffy huffed. “To answer your question, yeah sometimes we speak to Max. He’s in charge of the interns most of the time. I think he’d actually like to meet you. He’s the one who told us to read your paper - kind of a nerd about that sorta stuff.”

“He’s the coolest,” Andi said. “He even lets us hang out at the labs when we’re not working. Really wants to encourage people to get involved. We’re actually heading over there now if you wanna come?”

“What? Really?” Cyrus asked. Was this a trick? Were they actually asking him to hang out? Hang out _and_ go to one of the most famous laboratories in the country? He must be dreaming. “Would that even be allowed? That would be _awesome._ ”

“Alright, let’s go then!” Andi said brightly before marching off towards the gates. He and Buffy followed with matching grins.

Friends. He might finally have made friends. And he was going to meet _Max Kippen_. For a day that had involved getting beaten up by Reed Wilson it had turned out to be pretty great anyway.

 


	3. And Neither Do Lonely Boys

**[ENTER ACCESS CODE]**

_ Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. _

**[ACCESS GRANTED. WELCOME HOME, T.J.]**

The pair of large glass doors in front of him slid open and TJ Kippen stepped inside his workshop with a deep sigh of relief.

He didn’t technically live at Kippen & Co. Laboratories - the skyscraper building they were based in didn’t actually have any apartments built in - but it might as well be described as his home. He spent more time there than in his family’s apartment and had been doing so since he’d been gifted the workshop for his twelfth birthday. There was something ever so comforting about the whirring and clacking sounds of various mechanical objects throughout the lab that made TJ unwind inside. Even the smell of motor oil made him feel at home, especially after a long hard day. And,  _ oh _ , it had been a long hard day indeed. 

It had started off okay, the usual boring slog of classes and meaningless lunchtime chatter, in fact, it would have been a completely unremarkable day if it hadn’t been for TJ’s own forgetfulness. See, the thing is, he had a tendency to take his projects from home to school with him sometimes, usually either because he was so focused on them he didn’t want to let school interrupt his workflow or because he wanted to show them off. It was always fun to be admired. It made him feel important. Cared about.

That feeling never lasted long.

This week’s project was one he was particularly proud of - a bionic arm exoskeleton. It allowed the wearer to lift objects about one hundred times heavier than anything they could carry without support. He had been working on it for some time now. The aim was to get it to a point where it was easy to use and affordable so it could be sold commercially to those who needed it. 

And if sometimes he liked to put it on and pretend he had super strength then that was nobody’s business but his own. 

This wasn’t one of those projects he took to school to show off. This one was private. The ones he took to get his ego stroked over usually involved something mildly explosive that would get him in trouble with the principle if weren’t for the fact his parents were the largest donors to Shadyside’s funding… like, for instance, extra-enhanced mashed potato guns. He had no intention of showing his friends the arm at all, and it might not have left the lab at all, but that morning he woke up late and hunched over his desk in a pool of coffee he must have knocked over during the night. In his hurry to make it to school on time he had forgotten he was still wearing the arm after running some tests on it.

That was his first mistake.

Reed’s eyes had zeroed in on it the second TJ had greeted him that day. It all went downhill from there. Reed spent the rest of the day badgering him about it, asking if he could try it, and it was mostly due to a tired sort of irritation that TJ had given in.

That was his second mistake.

Guilt rolled in his stomach at the thought of Reed using the arm to humiliate that kid. TJ had just stood by and let it happen too. Gus hadn’t even been doing anything, just accidentally bumped into Reed as he was making his way down the front steps and had the bad luck of attracting his attention. That was always the way. It was as if Reed could  _ smell  _ weakness and he took great delight in asserting his own power over those he believed to be beneath him. TJ sometimes considered doing something about it, but his own fear of being the prey outweighed his desire to get involved. Self-preservation at its most cowardly.

So, like Reed, TJ had taken to surviving high school by walking the walk and talking the talk of an arrogant rich boy. He knew a lot of his classmates thought he was a jerk just like his friends, and in all honesty he probably was. To him, being hated was better than being a  _ nobody _ . And at least when he hung out with Reed other people wanted to hang out with  _ him _ . Because to hang out with Reed was to hang out with the popular crowd. The enviable crowd. The A-Listers. High school was so tiring.

He dumped his school bag on the floor by the door and stretched lazily. 

In his lab, he didn’t have to carry around the weight of other people’s expectations. There was no one hear to try and make laugh with forced jokes, there were no watchful eyes waiting for him to screw up, and there were certainly no mocking voices. Just him… well, him and his robots. 

“Wakey wakey,” he clapped his hands together and the lights flared on. 

Around him, the lab began to come to life. Computer screens which covered the walls flickered on to display schematics and experiment results, the holographic projector in the centre of the room bathed the place in soft blueish light as it projected a 3D image of the latest project he’d been working on, and from the corner came rattling two small black and white rovers.

“Hey buddies,” TJ greeted them as he crouched down to pet them both on the head. “Miss me?”

The whirred at him in confirmation and he huffed out a quiet laugh.

Their names were Chocolate and Fudge. TJ had built them when he was fourteen. They were his best friends (and arguably his only  _ real  _ friends - not that he’d be willing to admit that to anybody).

“Yeah, I missed you too. Let’s get to work, huh?”

As he moved through the lab the events of the day lingered on the edge of his thoughts. For the last few years, life at Shadyside Academy had been a monochrome film reel of the same thing day after day. TJ woke up, slipped on whatever mask was required to convince people that he was their darling to admire, and went to school. It was the same boring drama, the same people, and the same bullshit. 

Cyrus Goodman had come as an unexpected interruption to the regular programming of it all. 

He had walked into the fray without a single hesitation when he’d seen what Reed was doing to Gus. He’d been outmatched, he probably knew that and for all he knew TJ and Lester might’ve provided back up in beating his face in if Buffy Driscoll hadn’t made an appearance. It might have been the only time TJ had ever felt grateful for Driscoll’s presence. Usually, she irked him like nobody else, but someone had needed to save the new kid from his own stupid bravery.

TJ thought about this as he slid into the seat behind his desk. The surface was covered in a mess of university papers, draught sketches and half-empty Coca-Cola cans. TJ’s mother often refused to come inside the workshop for this very reason. It was far too messy for her. She often despaired at him and asked how he ever managed to find anything, but TJ would just roll his eyes in response and insist that he knew where everything was. This at least was true. He pushed the papers aside and pulled towards him the microwave he’d been tinkering with a few nights back. Several cans went clattering to the floor at the movement, but he paid them no mind as he got to work. Controlled chaos - his own controlled chaos. It was the only place in the world he ever felt comfortable in his own skin. 

He wondered if Cyrus Goodman was a messy person too. Or an inventor.

A hard knock on his ankle pulled him from his thoughts and he looked down to see Fudge wheeling into his feet insistently. 

“What? I’ll clean it up in a minute,” he frowned. 

Fudge continued to nudge at feet, whirring loudly as he did. TJ watched as the robot opened a small holographic display just above its own head. It was his brother.

Ah. TJ sighed and spun around lazily in his chair to check the door.

Max stood behind it looking distinctly unimpressed. TJ was betting he’d only just realised that his access code to the workshop no longer worked. He grinned at him. Max folded his arms and for a moment he looked so annoyed that he became the spitting image of their father. Ha.

TJ laughed and hit a button to open the door.

“What did you do to the entry keypad?” Max demanded in lieu of a greeting.

“Oh hi, Max. Nice to see you too,” TJ replied, sarcasm dripping from his tone. “I had a great day, thanks for asking. What about you?”

“It gave me an _electric shock_ when I tried to touch it, TJ.”

TJ snorted. “Oh yeah, that. I installed a biometric scanner and voice recognition. You have to identify yourself properly before you enter your code now.”

“I did that.”

“What did you say?”

Max eyeballed him as if he knew where this was going and desperately wished he didn’t. “The system asked me to identify myself and I said ‘Maxwell Kippen’. Then, when I tried to punch the code in it shocked me.”

“You misidentified yourself. That’ll be why.”

Max sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. TJ tried not to look too gleeful.

“TJ. What did you change my vocal activation to?”

“You’re no longer ‘Maxwell Kippen’, you’re ‘Captain Glitterpants’.”

“I hate you.”

“Aw, I love you too,” TJ said and whirled back around to pick at his microwave. He had the vague hope that if he ignored his older brother enough he’d just go away, but he knew Max was exceedingly stubborn when he wanted something. And he never came into TJ’s workshop unless he  _ did  _ want something. 

He perched himself on the edge of TJ’s desk. TJ tried to ignore the fact he could see him in his periphery and refocused on the circuit board he was fiddling with.

“Is that a microwave?”

“Does it look like a microwave?”

“Yes.”

“Then there you go, you’ve answered your own question.”

“What are you doing to it?”

“Improving it,” TJ muttered. “I’m trying to programme it with a very limited A.I.-”

The exasperation rolled off Max in waves. “ _ Why?” _

“So I can just ask it to cook things instead of having to input the time manually.”

There was a pause in which Max took a moment to consider this and TJ tried not to let his amusement show too much.

“The stuff you choose to waste your time on these days is getting increasingly dumb, congrats,” Max said, clapping him on the shoulder. “You know you could be working on something actually useful right now. Like your homework, or say even the Gamo-”

TJ’s growing good mood dissipated at once and he dropped his tools with a loud clang before turning to look at his brother. Max didn’t flinch, he only raised an eyebrow.

“Why are you here?” TJ asked, tiredly. 

“I’m supposed to be reminding you that we have the Cartier charity dinner this week,” Max said with a shrug. “And mom expects you to be there.”

TJ groaned. In his opinion, there was nothing worse than public events where his parents were involved. Their calendar was a year-round nightmare of annual galas, biannual dinners and monthly dinners for organisations they helped support. Max and TJ had been going to them since they were big enough to wear ties without the risk of them accidentally strangling themselves. It always felt like they were being paraded around like show ponies for middle-aged women in pearls to coo over. They were dreadfully boring.

“Can’t I-”

“Dude,” Max shook his head with a smile. “There’s no way you’re getting out of it. Not after you snuck out early last time.”

“I didn’t sneak out I was sick,” he defended himself. 

It was Max’s turn to snort. “I still don’t know how you got that vomit to look so real.”

“...you can make anything look like vomit if you mix it with enough oatmeal.” 

“You truly do astound me sometimes, kiddo.”

TJ swatted at him, but Max managed to duck away with a laugh and ruffle his hair.

Before TJ could enact any revenge, there was a knocking on the glass wall of the workshop and the two of them looked up in surprise. Outside the door hovered an anxious-looking woman in glasses and a white lab coat.

“Open the door,” Max said.

TJ sighed, but obliged and hit the access button. The doors slid open.

“Sorry to bother you,” the woman said. “I was just sent to- it’s just that you’re needed downstairs, Mr Kippen. There’s a couple of your interns here to see you… they brought a guest?”

There was no need to ask which Mr Kippen she was referring to. Nobody ever needed TJ at the labs. 

“I’ll be right there, Verity,” Max assured her with a smile. Verity went red and flashed a shy smile in return before hurrying off. TJ looked at Max.

“It’s a wonder any of your researchers get any actual research done,” he said. “What with them asking for your autograph all the time and all.”

“Shut up,” Max said, cuffing him gently up the back of the head as TJ laughed. “That only happened once.”

“Yeah, yeah, sure,” TJ grinned. “Go on then, get back to your fans.”

Max rolled his eyes.

"Don't blow yourself up," he warned, giving TJ’s shoulder one more pat before taking off.

TJ huffed in irritation and turned back to the wiring. "It's not going to blow up," he said moodily.

It blew up.

“Today sucks,” he groaned into the floor from where he’d been knocked on to the floor. The remnants of the microwave smoked cheerfully on the desk. 

At least no one had been around to see it. No one ever was.


	4. The Fabric Of The Universe

For all the opportunities Cyrus thought would be possible when moving to New York, shaking hands with the most famous young scientist on the Western hemisphere was not one of them. 

Max Kippen was a tall, stocky man with kind eyes and glasses that slipped down his nose. His blonde hair flopped a little in every direction and the lab coat he wore was covered in a colourful palette of old stains that suggested it was well-worn to the point of needing to be replaced. He grinned at Cyrus as if meeting him was the most delightful thing in the world and Cyrus couldn’t help but grin back.

“I’ve read your paper,” Max said, shaking his hand with such enthusiasm for a moment Cyrus was worried his own arm might come off. “Really fascinating stuff. So you’re in Andi and Buffy’s class? Wow, that’s awesome. It’s amazing how smart kids are today. When I was your age I was only-”

“-Inventing a wind turbine suitable for running entire streets from one rooftop?” Cyrus finished.

Max gave him a bashful smile, the tops of his cheeks blushing pink. “Well, yeah, but still. Bioluminescent lighting… it’s impressive stuff. Do you know we work with nanoparticles here at the labs? I actually run our research department for biotechnology.”

 “I know,” Cyrus nodded. “Your clean energy projects were actually the inspiration for my paper. I mean, the stuff I looked at has all been done before but you’re like pioneering an entire movement, basically-”

Vaguely away that he was one stepping away from full-blown gushing like a particularly geeky fanboy, Cyrus forced himself to shut up. Buffy and Andi beamed at him from where they were both perched on the desk behind Max. 

“Well, since you’re so interested in my work, I could give you a tour of the labs if you’d like?” Max offered.

Cyrus’ eyes widened. “Seriously? That would be awesome… I mean, if it’s no trouble.”

Max waved him off. “I wouldn’t have offered if it was any trouble. Come on, I’ve got some time now if you’d like.”

Cyrus nodded ecstatically. 

Max turned to Andi and Buffy. “You guys coming?”

Buffy shook her head and slid off the desk to pick up her bag where it rested at her feet. “We’re going to check the results for the experiment they ran over the weekend.” She gave Cyrus a questioning look. “We’ll catch up to you guys if you’re still here when we’re done, though?”

He smiled at her, grateful, not for the first time that day, to have finally made friends. “Sure.”

 

* * *

 

It only took about ten minutes for Cyrus to decide that he’d like to _live_ at Kippen & Co. Labs. The whole place was state-of-the-art amazing. Max toured him around the offices and laboratories, introducing him to not just employees in the research divisions but the business partners they ran into too. He talked about Cyrus’ paper almost every time, sounding like a proud parent, and it made Cyrus feel giddy. He peered into microscopes, gave his opinions on hypotheses, and helped Max pick out a couple of patterns in the data results of an experiment.

“You’d do well working here,” Max said. “You’re really bright. Next year you should apply for the internship programme, you’d be a shoo-in for it.”

“You think so?” Cyrus asked, disbelievingly.

Max gave him a firm not. “Swear down.

He felt like he was in scientific paradise.

“So you knew about my work,” Max said, a little while later as they strolled down a quiet corridor. Where the rest of the building seemed to bustle with people, this area had a calmer and more comfortable feeling to it. “Do you know anything about my brother’s work?”

“TJ?” Cyrus asked.

“Is that a yes?”

“Not really, but Buffy mentioned him.”

They had come to halt outside a large glass wall. It was tinted black, the contents of the room unable to be viewed at that moment, but from what he’d seen in the rest of the building Cyrus was well aware that the tinting on the glass could be controlled from within like curtains. It was likely another office they were about to enter.

“Yeah? She probably told you he’s a brat, right? Well, she’s not far off. Those two don’t really get along. It’s mostly TJ’s fault. He’s an idiot, I love him, but he’s definitely an idiot. Still, as annoying as he can be this is always worth seeing,” Max chuckled as he gestured to the glass wall. “Hold on and I’ll let us in-”

Cyrus thought back on Buffy saying that TJ was the worst and remembered that she’d mentioned he was friends with Reed. It didn’t bless him with any desire to meet him, but he didn’t voice his concern to Max. Being rude was worse than being in the presence of an idiot for a few minutes.

Max turned to the keypad on the wall and cleared his throat.

“Computer,” he said. “Access requested.”

For a second, nothing happened. Then a loud computerised voice came from the pad, making Cyrus jump a little. Max shot him a teasing grin. 

**[ACCESS REQUEST ACKNOWLEDGED. USER IDENTITY REQUIRED.]**

“Maxwell Kippen,” Max said clearly. 

**[PROCESSING.]**

**[PROCESSING.]**

**[PROCESSING.]**

He tapped his foot, waiting. Cyrus watched the keypad in awe. 

**[USER IDENTIFICATION NOT ACCEPTED. USER IDENTITY REQUIRED.]**

Max pinched the bridge of his nose in annoyance and muttered something that sounded like a curse mixed with his brother’s name under his breath. He leaned closer to the computer.

“Captain Glitterpants,” he said to the computer with a sigh.

**[PROCESSING.]**

**[USER IDENTIFICATION ACCEPTED.]**

**[ENTER ACCESS CODE.]**

Cyrus tried to hold in a laugh as Max rolled his eyes and punched in a code. From the amused look he received, he suspected he failed quite spectacularly. 

**[ACCESS GRANTED. WELCOME, CAPTAIN GLITTERPANTS.]**

“He thinks he’s funny,” Max explained. “He likes to find new ways to lock me out of the computer system.”

“Wait, TJ did that?” Cyrus asked, surprised. 

Max nodded. “He’s a programming nerd.”

The door glass doors slid open before them and Max stepped inside. Cyrus trailed after him. Right in the doorway, he was so stunned that he almost stopped walking altogether. It was hard to focus on Max’s tour guide explanations of the place; the lab was amazing. It was more of a workshop than anything else.

“This place looks like it might as well belong to Tony Stark,” he said, looking around in awe. 

Max laughed and said in a low voice, “Please, don’t tell TJ that. I’ll never hear the end of it if you do.” 

For a moment, Cyrus wondered why he was talking so quietly, then he realised they were not alone. At the end of the workshop, slumped over a large desk covered in what appeared to be biometric controls, was a boy. He had broad shoulders and dirty blonde hair that fell about the place much in the same fashion as Max’s. TJ, Cyrus thought. 

“Teej,” Max called and started towards him.

TJ’s body jerked and he straightened so suddenly he almost slipped right out of his chair. “I wasn’t sleeping!” He said, sounding a little dazed. 

Max sniggered and clapped a friendly hand down on his shoulder. “Sure you weren’t, buddy.”

TJ twisted around in his seat to glare at him, but the effect was ruined by the round tinted goggles that masked his eyes. Max frowned at him.

“Did you falling asleep in the middle of _welding something?_ ”

TJ pushed the goggles up on to the top of his head. “Of course not. That would be ridiculous. And dangerous.” He shuffled his chair to the side a little in an attempt to hide the lifeless blowtorch that sat by his elbow.

Max just huffed. “I’m gonna ignore that because we have company. This is Cyrus.”

They both turned to look at him, the effect rather odd. Had he not been aware of the six-year age gap between the Kippen brothers, Cyrus might have believed they were twins. 

_Green eyes._

He blinked and shrugged off the vague sense of deja vu that had settled over him. 

“Hi,” he said, with an awkward wave. 

TJ stared at him. Then it clicked. He had seen TJ before. Many times before, in fact. He blended into the background of his daily life.

In the courtyard at school, TJ’s hair had been styled neat and tidy in a quiff. He had been dressed in designer clothes, not an oil-covered shirt and old jeans. He had had a clean face and no ashy smudges on his cheeks, and he had refused to meet Cyrus’ eyes as Reed had thrown him around like a ragdoll.

He stood up all of a sudden and stepped towards Cyrus, offering a hand. Cyrus looked down at it. TJ’s fingers were calloused and, like his shirt, oil stained. It did not look like the hand of a basketball player who valued Apple watches over people. It was the hand of an inventor.

Cyrus shook it, feeling a little like he was betraying his new friends by doing so. 

“Cyrus is one of the kids on mom and dad’s scholarship programme,” Max explained. “He wrote that paper on bioluminescent plant life that I was telling you about. Cyrus, this is my little brother, TJ.”

“Of course you’re a clean energy nerd,” TJ said.

Cyrus frowned at him. Max sighed again. “Teej-”

“Of course I am. It’s important,” Cyrus said. “Do you not care about the environment?”

TJ winced. “I do. I do, sorry. That’s not what I meant. I meant… it makes sense. You’re friends with Driscoll and Mack, right?”

Cyrus nodded. 

“Teej is more into robotics than he is into energy,” Max said. It was the first time Cyrus had heard him speak with a tone that lacked any sort of positivity whatsoever. “He _could-_ ”

Max’s words were cut off with a beeping sound. He swore and looked down to his belt. A pager blinked red at him. He shot Cyrus a sorry expression. “I’ve gotta go sort something out in my lab, are you okay for me to leave you here for a moment? TJ can show you some of his work.”

Neither TJ nor Cyrus had a chance to protest before Max was hurrying out the door. TJ sighed, the manner of which once again reminded Cyrus of Max, and swivelled in his seat. There was an awkward pause.

“So… you don’t work with Max, then,” Cyrus said, trying to think of something interesting to say. 

“Max thinks I should be changing the world building solar panelled buildings,” TJ replied with a roll of his eyes.

“Why aren’t you?”

TJ shrugged. “He’s got it covered. I’m focused on other things.”

“What sorts of things?” Cyrus asked, intrigued. He thought back to the device Reed had worn. If TJ’s work was all like that then that was nothing short of terrifying. And a little amazing too, he had to admit. 

Gone was the look of annoyance that had come with his brother’s words - TJ’s face lit up. Cyrus was helpless to do anything but smile back.

“Prosthetics,” he beamed. “Mechanical limbs. Uh… you’ve already seen-” he winced again. 

They looked away from one another. 

Cyrus was just coming up with an excuse to leave when a whirring noise interrupted filled the silence. Something knocked at his ankle. He let out a noise of surprise.

A small rover robot circled his feet. It let out a few adorable chirps then nudged Cyrus’ ankle once again. 

“Who’s this?” Cyrus asked, crouching down to get a better look at the robot. 

“Uh… that’s Fudge,” TJ was looking at him with a strange expression. “His brother should be around here too, somewhere. Chocolate. But he’s weird about new people.”

Cyrus reached out to pet Fudge on the head. It made a happy trilling noise. “Wow. He’s amazing.”

“He’s basically a glorified Roomba.”

He shook his head. “Still amazing. Did you build him?”

TJ nodded, a shy looking falling over his features. Cyrus straightened up and smiled at him. It was rather hard to reconcile the image of the boy sat before him now and the boy who followed Reed’s lead at school. TJ seemed to be in his element here, comfortable enough to fall asleep at his desk and with whirring robot pets running around at his feet. Interesting.

“So… mechanical limbs, huh?” Cyrus asked.

TJ couldn’t seem to help but grin. “I’m building an exoskeleton.”

“Seriously?”

He nodded and stood up, then headed over to the corner while gesturing for Cyrus to follow. He led him to a large steel cabinet and punched in an access code. The doors slid open and a gasp fell from Cyrus’ lips before he could stop it.

The exoskeleton was all beautiful silver curves and blue lights. Cyrus’ fingers itched to reach out and touch.

“It’s still a work in progress,” TJ said. “But I’m getting there. When I’m done this thing will be able to help full-body paralytics move. It’ll also help with physical therapy and make manual building work easier.”

Cyrus turned to him, surprised. “You’re planning to make it available for commercial use?”

TJ nodded. “I want it to be affordable.”

He looked back to the machine. “It’s beautiful. What’s it made out of?”

“Titanium.”

 

* * *

 

Cyrus spent another forty-five minutes in TJ’s workshop before he realised it was getting dark outside. Despite their rocky introductions, he found that he was quite enamoured by TJ once he really got going explaining the mechanics of his work. It was easy to pretend school-time TJ didn’t exist when he had the very real, larger than life, TJ Kippen Inventor Edition stood right in front of him. He used wild gestured and talked about his machines like he was in love with them.

It made Cyrus’ heart do something funny that he didn’t want to think about.

Excusing himself by saying that he ought to be getting home for dinner, he made a hasty retreat. In the elevator, he tried to shrug off the memory of TJ’s bright green eyes lighting up with passion as he spoke. There was nothing more lovely than somebody explaining something they cared about.

Because he was thinking about it that he missed his floor and ended up three sub-levels down. Cyrus stumbled out of the elevator and looked around. The hallway he was in had an unhelpful lack of signage about. White fluorescent light filled the place, but it was empty and echoing. Not a soul in sight. 

He was about to turn around and get back into the elevator when something at the end of the hall caught his eye. Curiosity swirled inside him.

One quick investigation wouldn’t hurt, right?

His exploration led him to a door. A large, official-looking lab door. It was open just a little, allowing whatever it held inside to spill a throbbing green light out on to the floor of the corridor. Cyrus frowned. On the door was a sign that stated in bold lettering,

 

**‘CAUTION!**

**KEEP DOOR CLOSED AT ALL TIME.’**

 

And another just beneath it which said,

 

**‘RESTRICTED AREA!**

**HAZARDOUS MATERIALS**

**AUTHORISED PERSONNEL ONLY’**

 

Why would somebody leave the door of a restricted area open? The keypad by the side of the door suggested that you needed a code in order to enter. It seemed strange that it would just be left ajar. He was considering what to do about it when he heard quick footsteps coming towards him. Panic filled his chest and he suddenly felt rather like he was about to be caught trespassing or breaking a rule unknown to him, so he ducked behind the wall.

_Why am I hiding?_ He wondered. _I’m not doing anything wrong by being here. I’m just lost._ But he could not shake the feeling that something was off. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end. From his hiding place, he peered around the corner and watched the door. A shadow fell across the floor, blocking the green glow, and the owner was soon revealed to be a harried-looking man making a hasty exit from the restricted room. He wore a bio-hazard suit, rather than a lab coat. As he went by he muttered something under his breath that Cyrus didn’t quite catch. Cyrus wasn’t sure if it was a result of the room’s glow or it was the tone of the man’s skin under his mask, but he thought the guy looked rather ill. He watched as he disappeared down the hall. The feeling of panic curling in his chest began to soften and he straightened up. 

The door remained ajar. The man must have forgotten to close it behind him as he left. In an alarming manner, the glow grew even brighter. Cyrus glanced at the sign announcing ‘HAZARDOUS MATERIALS’ then back to the open door. It seemed like a bad idea to leave it as it was. Any experiments that existed within in the room might be put at jeopardy by leaving the door open and, after all, the sign did say to keep it closed. He would just have to close it himself, he reasoned as he began to creep closer to it. It would be fine… it wasn’t like he was going to go inside. He was just going to close the door. As he reached for the door handle, the phrase _‘curiosity killed the cat’_ popped into his mind in a manner that felt as if he was being scolded by his mother from a very long distance. Cyrus ignored it. 

He had just wrapped his fingers around the handle when he heard it. Voices.

They were not physical voices. They did not appear to be coming from within the room, no… they were _inside his head_. They filled his mind like a storm of strange whispers speaking in a language that he did not understand. Something familiar about them pressed at the edges of his memory and he was walking forward without even thinking about it. A pull in his chest, reeling him in like a fish caught on a line, he drew further into the room.

It would have felt like a normal laboratory if it weren’t for the gigantic glass cell in the centre of the room. A containment unit. Curiosity overcame him when he saw it and all of a sudden even the worry of getting caught wasn’t enough to stop him from getting closer. What he saw before him was too beautiful… too _insane_ not to warrant a closer look. It cast off a heat so intense that Cyrus could feel it in his bones and the light it gave off was brutally dazzling.

Within the cell, held up by a collection of thick wires and mechanical claws, was a stone. Or at least, Cyrus thought it was a stone. Though the stone itself pulsed green-white-black, it radiated a vibrant green light. Though… Cyrus had never thought he could _feel_ light before. It wasn’t like the sun shining on his skin, this was something else. Energy. Pure, dangerous energy that penetrated deep beneath his skin. The claws revolved the stone, turning it over and over at a steady pace, and the wires appeared to be channelling some of the energy back into the machines that lined the cell. As Cyrus watched he realised with each turn the stone looked less and less like a solid stone and more like a very thick superfluid. 

Like the door outside, the cell had been left open too. 

He was dimly aware that it was a bad idea to be here. He wasn’t wearing any sort of protection, he didn’t have security clearance to be here and he did _not_ know what he was looking at, but for some reason, Cyrus couldn’t bring himself to care. This in itself was unusual, because Cyrus cared about _everything_. Especially when it came to danger, but the whispering voices that filled his mind drowned out any conscious regard for his own safety. 

The invisible pull grew stronger and before he knew it he was inside the cell. As if they were the opposite ends of two magnets, Cyrus and the stone reached for each other. It pulled against its restraints, reaching toward his outstretched finger.

A connection.

**_BOOM!_ **

Energy, a thick pulse of energy, ripping Cyrus’ chest. His nerve endings were on fire. Every single part of him felt electrified, lit up like a light show. The ground began to shake. The lights went out. Everything slowed around him as if he were underwater. Then...

**_FLASH!_ **

_...A head-splitting pain, the kind he’s only ever felt once in his life. He’s somewhere else… he’s smaller… trees surround him… he remembers this…_

With sudden clarity, he could understand the voices that slipped in and out of his mind. They told him to open his eyes. To see. He needed to see.

He opened his eyes.

_He is suspended in the atmosphere._

_Breathless._

_Weightless._

_Alone._

 

_The cosmos shines around him in one million twinkling diamonds. Blues, purple, pinks. Like smudged paint across a vast canvas. Golden stardust fills his bloodstream._

_He glows like a collapsing sun._

_Then, in painless beauty, fusion breaks him apart. Light streams from the growing cracks in his skin. He shines brighter than everything around him, his light filling the emptiness spaces and casting shadows on dark matter._

_He feels himself becoming one with the very fabric of the universe._

_He feels himself begin to belong._

‘This is the cataclysm’, _he thinks. ‘_ This is what I was born for.’

Sense hit him like a dynamite explosion, and at the back of his mind, he could hear his father calling for him. He closed his eyes again and with all his might Cyrus wrenched his hand back, severing the connection as suddenly as it had been created. He collapsed to the floor. 

When he opened his eyes he was still alone, but he was in a laboratory in Manhattan rather than floating in the depths of space. The lights were back on, the ground was still. His head, thankfully, was as empty as it should have been. No strange whispers, no pull of burning curiosity. Just him. 

The stone still revolved, peaceful and unmoving in its place between the claws, as if nothing unusual had occurred. As if he hadn’t touched it at all. 

He pushed himself to his feet and staggered to the door. Whatever had just happened, his head was still swimming from it. He needed to get out of there.

As he left, the wires attached to the stone sparked a little. Cyrus did not see this, too busy focusing on getting the hell out of there. In fact, he noticed nothing but the vague sensation of pins and needles in the tips of his fingers. Not even the way the veins in his wrists were a brighter blue than normal. 

 

 

 


	5. The Pursuit Of Knowledge

It was a rare night at the Kippen’s apartment, the kind where all four of them managed to be in the same place at the same time for a meal. That being said, it didn’t necessarily mean that everyone’s attention was one hundred per cent on the meal. In fact, Richard was busy arguing into his phone as their in-house butler served up their food, Max was fiddling with something on his tablet and TJ had a notepad out to scribble vague ideas down on to. Emily Kippen was the only one not currently plugged into her work. She had a strict policy when she was away from the labs - no work-based interruptions unless absolutely necessary (this did not include personal experiments, theories or calculations). She believed overworking yourself was bad for your health, and she was correct, though she had yet to convince her husband and TJ of the same thing. Max agreed with her, but it was still often hard to distract him from the thoughts he had surrounding the projects he was running.

This overall sense of workaholism tended to lead to difficulties in communication with the family. They all got along well enough, and five minutes of conversation could be quite pleasant when they were all in a room, but any more than that tended to disintegrate quickly. For example, this evening they had all managed to say their hellos and discuss briefly how their days had been as their drinks were poured, but then Richard’s phone had rung and the boys had seen it as an opportunity to pull out their notes. Emily had frowned to herself, suddenly determined to make sure they actually _talked_ tonight, and things went downhill from there.

“So I got a call from school yesterday,” she said, fixing TJ with a hard look. It took him a moment to register that he was being spoken to, and when he met her gaze he flipped his notebook shut with a guilty smile. “It was your principal politely asking that you refrain from bringing non-school related experiments on to school property in the future. Something about risk assessments and dangerous untested equipment-”

Uh oh.

“It’s technically not untested-” TJ began to defend himself. “And it’s hardly dangerous, it’s just-”

“That doesn’t matter, the point is that it left the lab! What if the mechanics had failed! What if someone had stolen it? Exposing the public to danger experiments is a breach of ethics, TJ. And not to mention that equipment-”

“It’s not just an experiment,” he argued.

She waved him off. “-That equipment is worth thousands of dollars. It’s bad enough that you’re wasting your talents on a pointless project, but to it to _school_ -”

“The exoskeleton isn’t a pointless project!”

Max dropped his fork with a loud clang.

“Are you serious?” he asked, furious. “You took the _exoskeleton_ to school?”

It was with that it seemed that they had finally captured Richard’s attention as well.

“ _You did what?!_ ” His father said, gaze snapping over to TJ, then hurriedly into the phone. “No, not you. I was talking to my son, sorry. I’ll call you back.”

He snapped the phone shut with an irritated sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“You took your bionics project out in _public_?”

“I was planning to work on it during lunch-”

“TJ, do you know how irresponsible that is?”

“Oh, please,” TJ snorted. “I get that you’re worried about me making you guys look bad or whatever-”

“This isn’t about us looking bad!” His mom said, voice raising. “It’s about the fact you could have _endangered_ people. With _billion dollar equipment.”_

“Look, I didn’t mean to let Reed have it, he just-”

“You let your friend use untested bionics?!”

“-it was an accident-”

“It’s not a _toy_ , TJ!” She sighed, pushing her face into her hands with a loud noise of frustration. “At some point you have got to grow up.”

He scowled at her. Here it went - the same lecture that had taken place time and time before. She was about to let loose on how much he had to learn, how he needed to start remembering there were other people in the world other than him and everything didn’t orbit around his existence. He was selfish, immature, a _disappointment._

“I just wish,” she said, voice muffled by her hands as she rubbed them over her tired face. “I just wish you would think about your actions before you did them. It’s bad enough us getting calls from the principal, but to get calls because of things like that…”

From the end of the table his father let out a disappointed sigh, then picked up his fork and jabbed at a salad leaf. “Your problem is focus, TJ. You’re not focused enough. You have all this intelligence but you’re not putting it anywhere meaningful.”

“My work _is_ meaningful.”

“What dad’s trying to say,” Max interjected with a warning look. “Is that it’s not that what you’re working on isn’t important, Teej… the skeleton is really cool, but it’s a bit outdated, right? The company’s already got bionics covered, they don’t need you.”

“You should be focusing your energy on the neutron tech like your brother,” his dad said. “Imagine what you could contribute… imagine what you could _do_ if you weren’t busy fooling around with pointless endeavours.”

“It’s not-”

“Your mother is right, you need to take some responsibility here. You can’t just wander around doing whatever you damn like all the time, getting into trouble and causing a riot. You’re not a child anymore, son. It was one thing when you said you didn’t want to go to college yet-”

TJ had had the opportunity, like Max, to got to university early. MIT had offered him a place there. He could, theoretically, be doing his masters by now. However, at the time he had decided he wanted a ‘normal’ teenage experience. He hadn’t been keen to leave his friends and he didn’t feel like relocating to a new place had much point to it when he could achieve the same things he would there here at home. Now, he was regretting that decision a little, even if it was only because living away from home would mean he wouldn’t be having to have this conversation right now.

“-but to shirk your responsibilities altogether is an entirely different matter. You are first and foremost a Kippen, you have obligations to this world TJ. You have so much potential, you’re so bright, imagine what you could do. We’re not just going to let you sit by and waste it with silly pranks and little pet robots. You owe it to the world to use your brain for good.”

He came very close to banging his fist on the table in frustration. Instead, he just spat out, “What do you think I’m trying to do with the exoskeleton? Bring the Transformers to life? Recreate C3PO? I’m trying to _improve people’s lives_ here. Just because you don’t understand it doesn’t mean it’s a waste.”

“Of course we understand it,” his mother snapped. “Who do you think set up the bionics department in the first place?! We _care,_ TJ. We’re trying to achieve the same things as you, we’re simply saying that it’s not the right path for you. You’re not living up to what you could be. It’s not so much the project you’re working on as the lax attitude towards it. You talk about helping people, but at what point does that include taking out expensive and dangerous equipment to show off to your friends?! This is serious!”

At that point, TJ had had enough. They weren’t listening to him. They _never_ listened. Their conversations went around and around in circles. He couldn’t figure out what they wanted from him. 

He pushed away from the table hard enough to send the salt and pepper shakers in the middle tumbling over. They all called after him as he stormed out, shoulders set and anger radiating off him, but he did not look back.

Why did it always feel like when he tried to communicate with his own family something went wrong? Why did nobody ever understand what he was trying to say?

 

* * *

 

His workshop was a soothing source of comfort, especially at hours late as this. The rhythmic beeping of his machines, the way Fudge and Chocolate would bump into his feet every so often asking to be pet, the feeling of the screwdriver in his hand as he tinkered - it all reminded him that he had a place. A place he belonged.

“ _Shit,_ ” he yelped, yanking his hand back as a sharp shock zapped his finger. Loose wiring was the devil. 

“You know swearing at your machines won’t make them any more cooperative,” an amused voice came from behind him. 

He whirled around to find a familiar figure leaning in the open doorway. Dr Alec Metcalf was a tall graceful man made up of a lean build and an aura of polite charm. He wore elegant suits, tailored to the perfect fit, and despite being at Kippen & Co. almost every day for work he never looked quite at home in the labs. Something about his spotlessness, about his air of professionalism, suggested he was better suited to the boardrooms and financial meetings which he also frequented. There was none of the harried messiness of the scientists in him, none of the stress of the administration staff, just pure business.

This is likely why he was the CEO rather than anybody else - as hard as the Kippens worked, their distracted minds would likely lead to the downfall of the company were they left in charge. They knew this, Alec knew this, everyone in the world knew this. It might have been a source of friction between the founds and Dr Metcalf, were it not for the fact that they were old friends.

“Uh well, y’know,” TJ shrugged, pushing up his goggles to give him a half-hearted smile. “Asking nicely wasn’t working. I didn’t hear you come in?”

Alec huffed out a small laugh and strolled towards the desk. 

“Not surprising, you were in the zone,” he said. “What are you working on today?”

TJ made a wide sweeping gesture across the tabletop indicating the clutter of mechanics sprawled across it. A dismantled bionic leg made up most of the clutter, gyroscope pulled out and microprocessor set aside to be examined, wires and screws scattered about. It was an old model, something from a few years back that the company had developed but never produced commercially, and TJ had dug it out from one of the lesser used labs. His intention when pulling it apart had been to find inspiration for the exoskeleton but so far he was having little luck. The problem was powering the motions of the exoskeleton at the same time as having it respond to his movements accordingly. It couldn’t seem to handle doing everything at once, plus the power was only lasting for a few minutes at a time and he was struggling to find a suitable battery replacement that would mean it didn’t require being charged for hours on end before being used.

No one would want to have to worry about being plugged into the mains on a daily basis.

It turned out to be quite frustrating, running out of ideas. It felt as though there was an obvious solution staring him right in the face, but he couldn’t figure out what it was.

Looking at the disaster zone in front of them, Alec raised his eyebrows in an attempt at something like paternal disapproval. 

“Isn’t it a little late to be working on something this intense? You should be at home.”

They both knew his effort would go wasted. TJ’s parents couldn’t convince him to stop working and go to bed at the best of times. Alec may have known TJ all his life, may have practically been a second father, but he still had less authority than them. Max was the only one who could ever convince TJ to go to bed, even if it was just for a brief few hours.

“I’m not very popular over there at the moment,” he sighed, then he pulled his goggles back down and plastered on a grin. “‘Sides, sleep is for the weak.”

“A well-rested mind is the key to discovery.”

“My mind’s never well rested, man.”

Alec laughed again and perched himself on the edge of a stool. His expression held only vague interest as he examined the parts of the limb, but TJ did not let that fool him. Alec’s demeanor may have been casual but his eyes were focused and calculating. It was easy to be deceived by the way he presented himself, to think that he was just a powerful man in a suit with a lot of money, but if you knew him better than you knew he was cleverer than he let on. He had gone to university with TJ’s parents, studied with them and aided them in setting up the labs. He could have been a scientist too, could have changed the world, but he had chosen a different path. That was the one thing TJ didn’t understand about him - why anyone would prefer the drag of stuck in meetings every day over the freedom of the pursuit of knowledge was a mystery.

“What’s got you so worked up?”

TJ shrugged. “Things not working how they should. The usual.”

“You’ll fix it. You always do. Anyway, I wasn’t talking about your work. I meant with home. I thought you guys had a family dinner tonight.”

“We did. Why weren’t you there?”

TJ often thought it was tremendously unfair that though Alec was invited to those rare family dinners he was able to turn them down. Nobody else could get away with being busy for them. 

“I had a conference call,” Alec waved him off. “Don’t change the subject. What’s eating you?”

Persistently nosy adults really were the bane of TJ’s existence. He could see from Alec’s expression that it was unlikely he was going to be able to continue with his work this evening, at least until he talked, so he sighed and pushed his goggles up once again.

“I got in some trouble at school, they’re not happy about it,” he explained. “And they think me working on the biotech is a waste of time, y’know… a misuse of skills and resources, yadda yadda yadda, same ol’ same ol’. It just _sucks,_ right? ‘Cause Max gets to work on whatever he wants and nobody bats an eye. Why don’t I get the same treatment?”

“A lot of Max’s work aligns with your parents’,” Alec pointed out. “The company is pointed in the direction of clean energy at the moment. Prosthetics and bionics aren’t the main focus right now.”

“I _know_ ,” TJ huffed, folding his arms. “But just because they’re not the main focus doesn’t mean we should just forget about them… we have the chance to change people’s lives! I could render wheelchairs obsolete, help people walk again-”

Alec halts him with a raised hand and a sympathetic look. “I’m not saying you couldn’t, TJ. We all know you could do just that. The fact is our bionics department is doing just fine without your work. Your parents aren’t mad that you want to help, they just think your talents are best utilised elsewhere. You’ve got one hell of a mind, kid. Imagine you _and_ Max’s combined work on the neutron tech projects. Do you know what we could do with your combined brain-work? It would be… immense. To say the least.”

“You’re not meant to take their side,” he grumbled with a scowl.

“I’m not taking any side. Between you and me, I think you're right... you should do what you think is best for you. You're a smart kid, you know what you're doing. You're probably better off up here than getting underfoot on the other projects. We all know you're not the best at working with teams. But don’t be too hard on your folks. They think they know what’s best for you. They’re just trying to help you reach your full potential. I think they’re worried you’re isolating yourself up here all on your own.”

“I’m fine.”

Alec shrugged and stood up. “I trust you. Now, come on. You need to go home and get some rest. I’ll walk you down - you can tell me all about the bionics work you’re doing on the way. How are you powering it?"

Alec listened intently as the two of them made their way downstairs, asking questions here and there and offering small input. It was clear that he meant what he said about trusting TJ, about supporting his work no matter what he chose to do, but it didn’t take his mind off the argument with his parents completely. Alec was a source of familial comfort in the times when he clashed with the others. Sometimes he would back TJ, sometimes he would try to reason with him, but at least he always  _listened_. TJ knew he had a point about his parents just wanting what was best, but it was hard to reconcile that knowledge with the hard looks of frustration they gave him. After all, Alec was right about TJ and working in teams. He was notorious for being troublesome in them; he never quite communicated his ideas properly, he got frustrated fast when others didn't get what he was saying, and his mind worked faster than the ones of those around him most of the time which made him a nightmare to keep up with.

He should be better than that. Max found it easy, his parents found it easy, so why didn't he?

Maybe they were right. Maybe he needed to grow up and stop wasting his time. Maybe he owed it to the world to be following in Max’s footsteps, to be running a whole department, to be preparing himself to help take over the labs when the time came. Maybe he needed to focus more on being a prodigy and less on being an inventor.

But didn’t those two things go hand in hand?

He didn’t ever want to lead the company as Max aimed to. He didn’t want a whole department at his beck and call for the time being. He didn’t want to be on the front of magazines, have his name published on a thousand different papers, to be heading lectures at conferences and university talks all over the world. He just wanted to sit in his workshop and build things. He wanted to make the world a better place from the comfort of his own home. He wanted to be TJ Kippen, not TJ Kippen Heir Of Kippen & Co. Labs.

Just himself. Nothing more. Life would be so much easier without all these expectations he was meant to live up to. Instead, he was a disappointment. Too brash, too bold, too deviant. Mind was on important things just never the _right_ important things. And he was always damaging the reputation of the labs somehow… or at least, that’s how he felt. 

All these doubts came to him that night when TJ lay in bed, brain cluttered with half-formed ideas, but his train of thought kept returning to the same thing - the simple memory of Cyrus Goodman’s reaction when he saw the exoskeleton.

_“It’s beautiful. What’s it made of?”_

Beautiful. He thought TJ’s work was beautiful. 

He had had so many questions. The same thirsty curiosity that TJ felt when a project really gripped at his soul - the pursuit of knowledge. The unending desire to know _more_ . To _understand._

And for the first time in a long time, TJ had felt _understood._

That alone reassured him his work was worth it.

  



	6. The Strange Events Of A Teenage Meltdown

**_Lights._ ** _ Lights dancing around him, ahead of him, infinite. Bright and burning like a million great beacons in the darkness. Vast, ancient giants, ruling all the galaxies. Lights to call you home. _

_ No, wait. Not lights. _

**_Stars._ **

_ Burning, spinning, collapsing stars. They are talking to him… whispering. _

_ ‘Help us. They are dying. We are  _ **_dying_ ** _.’ _

Cyrus awoke with a jolt, dream sliding from his mind like water as he focused on the way the world around him was still blurred by the last remnants of sleep which stuck to him. He was rarely very put together immediately after waking up, but at that moment he felt particularly out of sorts. Rubbing groggily at his face he couldn’t help but notice the way his skin felt like it was buzzing. A strange hum running down his spine and arms making the hair stand on end. Static. Like an old television. He wondered if he was coming down with something. 

He shook himself and shoved the covers back, stumbling out of his bed like a drunk man in pursuit of the bathroom. His alarm had yet to blare to life - he still had another half hour - but he knew he wasn’t getting back to sleep now. It felt like he hadn’t slept at all last night, even though he’d been out like a light and stayed out from ten until six. A tilting feeling of unease invaded his balance. His head pounded.

Overhead, the lights buzzed on as he smacked at the switch on the wall. Too loud. Far too loud. He squinted up at them, wondering if there was something wrong, maybe a moth had flown into the bulb or something. Nothing.

Come to think of it, he thought as he began to tune-in to the world properly, everything felt too loud. Amplified. Not just sound but every sensation. He was suddenly far too aware of the linoleum beneath his feet, the smell of old wallpaper that surrounded him, and the dustmotes that twinkled in the air. It was like he could feel every atom and soundwave around him.

Man, he really  _ must  _ have been coming down with something. He hoped not. He had so much homework to submit today. Shadyside so far was a lot more intense than his previous school and, for the first time in his life, he was starting to struggle to keep up. Dimly, he wondered if all of his classmates struggled in the same way. If Buffy and Andi felt the need to cram most nights, crowding over their homework and stressing about projects. 

He wondered if TJ Kippen ever worried about schoolwork. 

_ ‘No _ ,’ he thought, remembering the existence of Fudge and Chocolate.  _ ‘Probably not.’ _

His bleary eyes locked on his own reflection in the mirror. Tired. He looked too tired. Exhaustion was obvious in the bags under his eyes and the paleness of his skin. It gave him the foreboding feeling that today was going to be trouble whether he wanted it to be or not. He sighed and leaned down to splash his face with cold water in the hopes of waking himself up a little more.

As he bent down, for a brief and flickering moment, a green blur followed his movement and the shadow he cast across the floor glowed iridescent around the edges. However, Cyrus saw none of this. His focus was already on what to have for breakfast.

 

* * *

Chemistry was a frustrating class. Not because it was difficult but because, much to Cyrus’ chagrin, Reed Wilson sat behind him. 

This wouldn’t have been a bother to Cyrus - after all, he had a strict policy of ignoring bullies unless they were causing somebody harm-  if it were not for the fact that ignoring Reed was easier said than done. It didn’t seem to matter that they were in full view of a teacher, nor did it matter at all that Andi and Buffy were also in the same class and tended to sit flanking him like two geeky bodyguards, Reed was dedicated to the art of irritating Cyrus. Today’s tactics involved shooting high-speed spitballs at him every five minutes, covering the back of Cyrus’ head in disgusting slimy wads of chewed up paper. It made a horrible and obvious noise every time one hit him.

**_POP._ **

**_SPLAT!_ **

The sniggering that followed from the classmates sat behind him made Cyrus sigh. Buffy’s fists clenched and Andi made a sharp inhaling sound. He had already had to stop the two of them turning around and climbing across the desks to get to Reed, had physically had to grab the back of Buffy’s jacket and pull her back down. It wasn’t worth them getting in trouble. He was hoping if he kept ignoring it then Reed would get bored.

**_POP._ **

**_SPLAT!_ **

It seemed unlikely though. 

The eerie feeling of static skin from earlier that morning had returned. It felt a little like an electrified version of pins and needles and it made him shift uncomfortably in his seat. He shook himself a little, ignoring the amused whispers of the boys at the back, and refocused on the experiment before him. At the front of the room, their teacher scrawled explanations across the smartboard in between her instructions, but it was getting harder to zero in on them as he usually would.

“You okay?” Buffy asked, brows drawn together in concern. “You’re more fidgety than normal."

“I’m fine.”

“Sure you don’t want me to deal with Reed for you? I think I can kick him from here.” 

“It’s not worth it,” he muttered. “Just ignore him.”

“Easier said than done,” Andi whispered from the other side of him, reaching up to pluck yet another spitball out of his hair with a face of disgust. She had accumulated a nice pile of them on a tissue in front of them. “Nobody would blame you if you complained, you know.”

That wasn’t true, but Cyrus didn’t want to burst Andi’s bubble when she was just trying to be kind to him. They were old enough now that they should be past the whole ‘so and so is a tattletale!’ stage, but in the brief moment at the beginning of class when Cyrus had considered raising his hand the phrase ‘snitches get stitches’ came to mind. Plus, he didn’t really want to deal with the humiliation of running to a teacher for a problem he should be able to handle himself. It wasn’t like Reed was hurting him either, it was just juvenile teasing. 

**_POP._ **

**_SPLAT!_ **

He sucked in a sharp breath between his teeth. 

“My Bunsen burner isn’t working,” he huffed, ignoring Andi’s comment. On either side of him, Buffy and Andi had both managed to light their burners with ease. They frowned at his equipment, twin looks of confusion, and Andi reached over to check the tap.

“The gas is definitely on,” she said. “Maybe there’s a break in the pipe?”

“Doesn’t look like it,” Buffy said, shaking her head as she inspected it. “I don’t know… try hitting it.”

“You want me to hit my Bunsen burner?” Cyrus asked.

“It works with computers.”

“I can’t believe you’re an honor student.”

“Just shut up and try it.”

It was at that moment that a few important things happened at once. First, Cyrus tried Buffy’s method of fixing the burner. Once, twice, nothing. His frustration grew. The static crawl across his skin increased in accordance. He switched to lifting it up and knocking it down against the table. Next, the familiar sound of cruel laughter floated up behind him. An itch flickered across his fingers. The world around him seemed to sharpen, a faint ringing filled his ears. He clenched his fist tight around the cool stem of the burner.

He was in the middle of lifting it up and slamming it down once more when the next spitball caught him under the ear with a sickening wet squelch.

**_BOOM!_ **

Once the screaming and the chaos had subsided, Cyrus found himself looking down at the desk before him in shock. Instead of a broken Bunsen burner gracing the surface, there was now a perfectly round hole with singed edges, tendrils of smoke floating away in wisps. Below the desk, destroyed pieces of twisted metal scattered at their feet, and the black shadow of an explosion stained the floor. 

To most of his classmates, it appeared to be an experiment gone wrong. However, had they been looking at Cyrus’ hands at the time, it would have been hard to miss the way his fingers hand glowed bright green for the moment before the explosion.

“Could’ve just used a different burner,” Andi said faintly. 

 

* * *

 

“So are we going to talk about it…?”

“No.”

A few minutes of awkward silence went by. It was lunchtime, an hour had gone by since the chemistry incident, and Cyrus was sat with Buffy and Andi under a tree. A few hundred yards away, a group of boys were tossing a football back and forth between themselves unbothered by today’s strange events. Cyrus wished he could go about in the same manner. He had floated through his calculus class in a daze, which had resulted in him being asked if he wanted to go to the nurse several times. It had only taken about twenty minutes for the whole school to hear about what had happened - supposedly a freak accident with faulty equipment and chemicals. Their teacher had tried to send him home, worried he might be in shock once she had realised he wasn’t physically injured at all, but Cyrus had refused. If he was left to his own devices he would dwell on it too much. He didn’t want to dwell on it.

He was so confused.

“Is that like… a normal thing that happens to you?” Andi asked as casually as possible, picking at the grass beneath her feet.

Cyrus shot her a tired look and sighed. “No. And we’re not talking about it.”

The problem was, while everyone else may not have been paying attention, Andi and Buffy definitely had been. They had seen his frustration grow and grow in the classroom, had seen the way his veins went from a normal blue to an acid green and how his hands had begun to glow like something straight out of a science fiction movie just seconds before he had shot a hole through the desk with a blast of energy from his  _ fist.  _

No. That wasn’t something that normally happened to Cyrus. That wasn’t a thing that normally happened to anybody. 

Another few beats of quiet passed by, not one of them touching the food they have grabbed from the cafeteria... until Buffy finally caved in. 

“We can’t  _ not  _ talk about that, Cyrus,” she said, a hint of hysteria skirting the edges of her tone. “You blew up the desk with  _ your mind. _ ”

“I don’t think it was my mind.”

“Still! Normal people can’t just… blast holes in things! That’s not natural! How did you- I mean how do you… just, um,  _ how?” _

“I don’t know,” he groaned, flopping onto his back and throwing an arm across his face to block out the sunlight above him. “That has  _ never  _ happened to me before.”

He thought maybe this would be frustrating too, this weird  _ weird  _ day that he couldn’t work out, except that since the incident he had just been exhausted. No room for frustration, as if the blast had taken all of his negative feelings and propelled them from his body in an angry stream of light. It was implausible.  _ Insane. _

Oh man, maybe he was losing it. A real teenage meltdown. 

“...Do you think you could do it again?”

He removed his arm to give Andi an incredulous look. Buffy was looking at her with a similar expression.

“What?” Andi asked innocently. “You said you’ve never done it before, right? So… maybe it was a one-off. Or maybe it wasn’t. You might’ve just unlocked like… some crazy superpower or something. You gotta test it.”

He recognised the look in her eyes; hungry. It was the same look she got when she was explaining a project Max had begun at the labs or something she’d been reading about. It was the look that meant Andi sensed science and it wasn’t getting away from her any time soon. 

Cyrus groaned and covered his eyes again. “That’s a terrible idea. It’s… it’s crazy. Nothing  _ happened _ . It was just an accident-”

“Bull,” Andi said. “That’s complete bull and you know it. I saw it- we all saw it. Cyrus your hands were  _ glowing _ . Whatever you did it was like pure energy or something. That’s not an accident. That’s not a freak equipment failure, I mean it was a  _ Bunsen burner  _ for crying out loud. They’re not exactly loaded with- with… I don’t know,  _ uranium  _ or whatever.”

“Uranium?”

She shrugged. “All I know is energy like that doesn’t come from a goddamn Bunsen burner, okay? We weren’t even using chemicals that flammable. Oh, hey. Maybe you’re like Carrie. Or Matilda. You know… a bullied kid who unlocks superpowers to deal with them... but with less telekinesis. And murder.”

“Andi I don’t have superpowers.”

“Well, how can you be sure if you won’t see if you can do it again?”

Cyrus looked to Buffy for help. She shrugged at him as if to say ‘she has a point’ and took a swig from her water bottle. He sighed. This was not a battle he was going to win.

“Fine,” he said, pushing himself back up into a sitting position. Andi let out a small delighted squeal and clapped her hands together, ignoring the way her friends rolled their eyes at her. “What do I do?”

“Um,” she bit her lip, smile giving way to uncertainty all of a sudden. “I don’t know. What did you do before?”

He shrugged. “I guess I just…” he clenched his fist and brought it down against the ground in the same fashion he had when he’d been holding the burner.

Nothing happened. He looked up at them. 

“You were kinda mad,” Buffy chimed in. “Because of Reed. Maybe think about that a little.”

He nodded and tried to think about the way annoyance had crawled up his back as Reed and his friends laughed. The feeling of spitballs scattering his neck and hair. He brought his fist up and down once again.

Nothing.

“See, what’d I tell you?” He said with a shrug. “C’mon, we should head to class if we’re not gonna eat anything.”

Andi (and even Buffy to an extent) looked disappointed. They were all standing up, pulling on their bags and picking up their belongings, when a stray football came flying through the air hard and fast straight towards Cyrus’ face.

He only spotted it at the last second, and it was out of complete instinct that he threw his hands up to smack it away. 

It didn’t make contact.

**_BOOM!_ **

A green pulse of light shot through the air and hit the ball hard. It exploded into a million pieces in the air, little pieces of rubber floating down through the air in a terrible confetti. 

Andi turned to him. “What was that thing you were saying? About not having superpowers?”

He stared at the space in the air that the ball had been, mouth slightly agape in shock. His fingers still had a strange tingle to them.

“I think,” Buffy said slowly. “I think we should go to the labs. Before anything else gets blown up.” 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is for Payton because she's the only reason it got finished.


	7. Gamorite

Word got around fast that day at school. By lunch, TJ had heard four different versions of how ‘the weird new boy Cyrus Goodman’ had blown up a chemistry experiment. Some people swore they saw him do it on purpose, others insisted that he’d blow up half the lab and they’d been thrown out of their chairs, Reed kept saying he didn’t understand how an idiot who couldn’t work on a basic project was allowed into the school.

“Pity probably,” he said. “They have to let some losers in or it makes the school bored look bad.”

TJ just sighed and shook his head, rummaging through his locker for the English homework he was sure he’d done… maybe. Possibly He might have been distracted upgrading Fudge and Chocolate the other night. It didn’t really matter.

He didn’t care what Reed or any of the other students had said. Wasn’t interested. The rumour mill went fast in Shadyside, and speed usually meant less accuracy. He thought it was highly unlikely that someone like Cyrus would ever sabotage their schoolwork on purpose and he knew they were exaggerating about the labs. The fire alarm hadn’t even gone off. If it had been that bad they would have been evacuated. Accidents happened. He’d blown himself up more than enough times to know that. Mostly he just hoped Cyrus would be okay - he wondered if he’d be hanging out at the labs later. Maybe he’d look for him, just to check everything was alright.

He tuned Reed’s rant about school standards out and slammed his locker shut. School days were way too long.

 

* * *

 

“Ready… aim… _fire_!”

A shot of green energy shot through the air, blasting a perfect round hole right through the middle of an old textbook. It fell to the floor with a thud, small flames licking at the edges of the hole only to be put out immediately after with quick jet of water. Andi stood proudly to the side clutching a red fire extinguisher, safety goggles and lab coat on, while Buffy took notes next to her.

“That was a good one!” Andi said. “I think it was bigger than the last one. Did you see that Buffy? What do you think?”

“Definitely bigger. Maybe a bit brighter too,” Buffy replied, frowning in concentration as she scribbled it down. She looked up at Cyrus. “Did you do anything differently that time?”

They were in an empty lab on one of the more deserted floors of Kippen & Co. After the exploding football incident, they’d all agreed it would be safest to head to a place designed to house explosions, and maybe they could figure out what was going on. So far ‘figuring out what was going on’ had involved launching random objects into the air and having Cyrus stand in the middle of the room and try to shoot them down with his powers. It had been a struggle at first, but he had quickly begun to get a hold on it. 

“I threw my arm forward a bit faster,” he said, gesturing to demonstrate his point.

Andi and Buffy ducked as he blasted a hole in the wall.

“Maybe be a bit more careful when you do that now,” Andi suggested. “It seems to be getting stronger.”

That worried Cyrus.

“You don’t think it will get to the point where I like… become energy, right?” He asked. “I don’t want to- well, I don’t really want to… go boom.”

He made a blasting motion with his two hands in emphasis, which is when something rather peculiar occurred. 

"Did you just... open a portal into space?" Buffy asked, gaping in awe at the anomaly before them.

In the air between Cyrus and the girls, it was as though a window had been opened up. An open circle, with a hazy ring of misty green around the edges, which looked out into space. A distant galaxy sat before them, shining like something out of a telescopic photographic. Pinks, purples and shimmering blackness. The temperature of the room dropped. It continued to hang in the air.

Cyrus stared at it, then looked at the girls, and then back at the portal.

"I... maybe? It's no big deal."

"Oh sure, that's just a thing that regularly happens to people now."

“What should I do?”

“Put your hand through it,” Andi said instantly.

“What?! No!” Buffy smacked her on the arm. “Bad idea. Cyrus don’t-”

But it was too late. Cyrus was already reaching forward. It felt like breaking the surface of a very cool, very still body of water. The other side felt icy and tight. 

“What’s happening on the other side?” He asked.

Andi peered around the portal. “It’s just green,” she said, her voice suddenly hushed and quiet in wonder. “Like the edges. Your arm is gone. Buffy, write that down. His arm is gone.”

Buffy sighed but did as she was told. Cyrus stared at the stars in front of him.

It was so vast. So open and empty but so filled up at the same time. He didn’t even know where he was looking at. It could be anywhere, anywhere in an infinite and unexplored universe. It was like a sudden and terrible truth had been thrust upon him; if he went through he would be in  _ space _ . Would he even be able to survive out there? Would his newfound powers grant him safety out there? How would he get back? He wasn’t even sure how he’d opened the portal in the first place.

Abrupt anxiety gripped his chest tight and he tugged his arm back at once. The portal closed. 

“Cyrus!” Andi groaned. “I wasn’t done with my observations.”

“Sorry,” he said, giving her a sheepish look. “I didn’t know that would close it.”

“Can you open another one?”

“I don’t know how!”

“Just do what you did before.”

He gave them an uncertain look, but they both just nodded in encouragement. Cyrus squared his shoulders and steadied himself, then repeated the motion from before. It had an immediate effect. Like a hole-punch right through reality, a portal opened in the space between them. Galaxies shimmered back at them.

“Do you think they only go to space?” Andi asked, peering into it while Buffy continued to furiously jot things down in excitement. “Or do you think you could control where they go?”

He shrugged at her. “I don’t know, maybe? I’ve got no idea how I’d even go about that.”

“Try thinking of a location when you do it,” Buffy offered.

“But I wasn’t really thinking of space when I first did it.”

“Maybe space is just the default.”

He looked at her, disbelief evident on his face, but couldn’t bring himself to destroy the hopeful expression on her face. He closed the portal, then thought hard about somewhere else. Anywhere else. 

And then they were looking at the farmhouse. 

Fields of grass blowing gently in the breeze. Leaves shed by the trees preparing themselves for winter scattered the ground in a collage of browns, oranges and reds. The sky was open and clear above the white walls of the house. It was a view straight from a painting.

“Wow,” Andi gasped. “Where is that? It’s beautiful.”

“It’s home.”

His chest ached with longing. The urge to climb right through the portal was as strong as a magnetic pull hooking around him, tugging forwards, but he stopped himself. If he did it, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself going inside. He wouldn’t even know how to begin explaining to his parents how he’d come home so fast. Or why.

“What the fuck.”

In their distraction, Cyrus and the girls had neither noticed the sound of approaching footsteps or the door to the lab sliding open. They whirled around, startled.

Max stood in the doorway gaping at them, glasses sliding down his nose in shock.

 

* * *

 

 

“So… what you’re telling me,” Max said, perched on the edge of a desk with his fingers pressed together deep in thought. “Is that you just woke up this morning with superpowers and you’ve no idea how you got them.”

“They’re not really superpowers-” Cyrus started, feeling awkward as everyone watched him, but stopped when Max lifted a hand to silence him.

Once getting over the initial shock of catching them, and Andi’s blurted out declaration of ‘Cyrus has superpowers!’ before anyone else had the chance to speak, Max had adjusted to the situation with what was a rather spectacular kind of enthusiasm. As it had been with Andi and Buffy, the call of science had overcome any reservations he’d had. Plus, it was kind of hard to accuse them of pulling a prank when there was a hole right through the space-time continuum floating in midair in front of him.

“They’re superpowers, Cyrus,” he said. “There is literally no other way to describe them. What I don’t get is how you can just… acquire them without noticing. How does that even happen?”

Cyrus just shrugged at him. 

Max sighed and shook his head. “If we’re going to study this properly we need to figure out the origins. Also, while we’re discussing it, I think it’s best that we don’t tell anybody else about this. Keep it quiet. Not everyone is going to want to do innocent experiments like Andi and Buffy if they find out. This could be dangerous for you, Cy. Okay?”

They all nodded.

“Right. Walk me through your week. Something has to have kicked this off… unless it was just latent energy, and in that case we might have to go farther back, but let’s just stick to recent events for now. Did you do anything different over the past few days? Meet anyone new? Experience anything strange?”

“Did you get bitten by any radioactive spiders maybe?” Buffy asked, unhelpfully.

Max shot her a warning look. She grinned back at him.

Cyrus sighed and sat down heavily. “ _ Everything’s _ been different recently,” he said. “I just moved to a new city. I don’t exactly have a routine here. I just showed up, went to school, met you guys and…” he trailed off, eyes widening.

“What?” Max sat, straightening up with interest.

“I came here,” Cyrus whispered, then louder. “I came  _ here. _ ”

Max frowned. “What about here?”

“I- I thought it was a weird dream or something, but now I think about it… it matches up. The day you showed me around, I got lost, remember?”

He nodded. 

“Well… when I was looking for you I ended up downstairs in some of the restricted labs. There was a door open. I don’t think it was meant to be. I- I went to shut it. And there was this  _ glow _ -”

“Downstairs,” Max muttered, then his eyes widened in understanding. He stood up and crossed the room in a brisk walk, grabbing Cyrus by the shoulders and looking into his eyes. “Cyrus. Cyrus, was the glow green?”

Cyrus nodded.

“Did you go inside the room?”

He nodded again. “There was this weird rock-”

Max released him, stumbling back a step and lifting his hands to his mouth.

“What Max?” Andi asked. “What is it?”

“Gamorite.”

“What?”

“The rock- we have. It’s Gamorite. We have Gamorite downstairs. Gamorite is what Cyrus saw, but I don’t get how- Cyrus what happened when you saw it.”

“Well, it sort of just… I don’t know. It was like it was calling to me. And I touched it.”

Max was starting to bounce in excitement. Amazement covered his face. “You touched it,” he gasped. “Oh my God, you touched it. How did you- I don’t… Cyrus, do you know that nobody has been able to touch that rock-”

“Max-” Buffy tried to interject.

“-I mean… even with the hazmat suits… we’ve needed machinery-”

“Max.”

“-astounding, impossible, you can’t-”

“Max!”

Buffy slapped him. Max stopped bouncing and grimaced at her, rubbing his cheek. 

“What the hell is Gamorite?” Buffy asked. “And what’s it doing here? And what do you mean nobody else could touch it?”

“Right, sorry,” Max said, shaking his head and sitting back down. “I got carried away. Jeez Driscoll, you’re a lot stronger than you look, you know?”

“Just tell us what’s going on.”

Max looked at them, biting his lip a little and pushing his glasses up. He seemed to be making a decision of sorts. Anticipation unfurled in Cyrus’ chest. All of a sudden, he wasn’t sure he  _ wanted  _ to know. But the looks on Andi and Buffy’s faces were eager. When he looked down at his hands he realised he could see his veins much clearer than he ever had been able to before. Strange. Different. He was different. He needed to know, even if he didn’t want to. He needed to know what had happened to him.

“Look, okay,” Max said, leaning forward and gesturing for them all to scoot closer. They did. “This is genuine classified information. You guys can’t repeat this to  _ anybody,  _ alright?” 

They nodded. He took a deep breath.

“Okay, so… what do you guys know about supernovas?”

“They’re collapsing stars,” Buffy answered. “What does that have to do with-”

“It has everything to do with this, okay? Just listen. So you know that a supernova is a collapsing star. The pressure of the core drops, it condenses, grows hotter, triggers a nuclear reaction, yada yada yada…”

They nodded.

“Okay, well after all that it leaves behind a spinning neutron star, right? Well, did you know that neutron stars give off radio waves? Pulsars of radio waves that can travel through space faster than you can imagine. Well, that was something my mom was particularly interested in. She came up with this theory, right? This theory that if you can track the radio waves you can track the neutron star itself. Now, what do you know about the composition of a neutron star’s core?”

“Nothing,” Cyrus said. “Nobody knows anything about that. We don’t know what they’re made of.”

“There are theories though,” Andi piped up. “They could be made of superfluid or some unknown state of matter. Something we haven’t found yet-”

Max shook his head. “Oh, we’ve found it.”

“What?”

“Two years ago, my mother launched a project. We call is Project Mystery, For obvious reasons. She and her team had successfully managed to track a neutron star. So if you know that we didn’t know anything about the neutron star’s core composition then you might also know that neutron stars have an extremely strong gravitational pull.”

He took another breath, shaking his head. “God, I should not be telling you this. Okay. So… my mom and her team found a way to enter a drone into the orbit of this star she’d found. No one thought they’d manage to land it, but they did. It was insane. And not only did they manage to land it, but they managed to use it to extract a sample of the core and  _ bring it back _ .”

“Gamorite,” Cyrus said, understanding all at once.

“A new element,” Max nodded. “Something we’ve never seen before. Getting it back to the lab was a nightmare. It’s difficult to transport. The element gives off the same exothermic energy as splitting uranium does, but without burning out. If we can find a safe way to contain, move and control it then we can turn it into an everlasting energy source for powering turbines and creating electricity.”

“So  _ that’s  _ why the company shifted its focus to clean energy?” Andi asked. “But… why not tell anyone? Why keep that a secret.”

Max shrugged. “We’re still working on a way to contain it properly. We keep having to update the cell it’s kept in now. It’s dangerous- there would be an uproar about keeping it in the city. But my mom wants it close to study it. People have been after my family’s work for a long time. Whether to sabotage or steal it, it doesn’t matter. We couldn’t risk releasing it to the public just yet. Not until we know more.”

So there it was. Gamorite. A new element. A new,  _ irradiated _ , element. And Cyrus had touched it. Cyrus should not have been able to touch it. Coming into contact with the stone in its pure form…

“It should’ve killed you,” Max said to him, face the picture of seriousness. “One of the research team got too close without a suit once and it  _ burned him alive _ . You actually made contact and you walked away. You walked away, Cyrus. Do you know how insane that is?”

Cyrus wanted to say he understood. He wanted to agree that it was in fact completely  _ batshit crazy _ . He wanted to stand up, scream and shout, and throw his fists against a wall yelling about how this couldn’t be happening. It didn’t make sense. He wasn’t anything special. He was just a kid. Just a kid having a really weird week. Not a kid who could touch a nuclear element and then just walk away. That was impossible. That was extraordinary. He was anything but that.

It was too much. The world went fuzzy around the edges, then faded to black.

  
  
  
  



	8. And So It Begins

_...The stars falling like the embers of a flame, burning heavy and fast in the atmosphere, burning into nothing... dying... _

Cyrus could've done without the throbbing head when he woke up, but that was what he got for passing out on a hard laboratory floor.

Once Max and the girls had made sure he was alright, checking him for concussion with worried expressions and apologies for overwhelming him, they helped him off the ground and the four of them headed up to Max's private office. There they were safe to discuss the situation at hand.

"What do we do now?" Buffy asked. "Cyrus can't stay like this. What if it hurts him? He could already be in trouble for all we know. Maybe we should take you to the emergency room."

Cyrus shook his head. "No way. If my mom found out I went to the hospital then I'd never hear the end of it. She already thinks I'm told fragile. Besides, Max is right. Telling other people is dangerous. Anyway, I  _ feel _ fine."

"Just because you feel fine doesn't mean you  _ are  _ fine," Max pointed out. "Buffy's right, you could be in real trouble. If you're not going to let us take you to the hospital then at least let us run some tests here."

"What kind of tests?"

Max shrugged. "I'll sit down and draw up a plan. I've never dealt with somebody coming into contact with an irradiated star core before. This is new territory."

"God, Cyrus," Andi said. "You could be the key to controlling the Gamorite if you think about it."

"What do you mean?"

"Max you said you guys couldn't release any information until you found a safe long-term way to contain it, right? Well… Cyrus is containing it. Or at least containing its energy. It's like you absorbed it, Cy. Like you're some sort of conduit."

"She's right," Max said, eyes widening. "If we can work out whatever it is about you that let you touch it then maybe we can figure out how to do that for other people. From what we've seen so far, it's almost like you're welding raw nuclear power with your body. Think about what that means…  people could be their own energy source."

"I don't really want to be a conduit," Cyrus replied. "I want to be normal. Do you think we could find a way to get rid of it?"

"You would want to get rid of something this great?" Andi asked.

Buffy chimed in. "I'm with Cyrus on this one. We don't know anything about the Gamorite or what it might have done to him. Max, you can't seriously be thinking of leaving him like this. You said it yourself… it's pure nuclear power. Even if it didn't mean people could be their own source of energy that doesn't mean it's renewable. What if it burns out. What if  _ Cyrus  _ burns out."

Andi's excitement petered out and she shot an apologetic look at Cyrus.

Max bit his lip. "You're right," he sighed. "Of course. You're right. Sorry Cyrus, I don't know what I was thinking."

"It's fine. I think everyone here is guilty of getting caught up in the science a bit too much sometimes. We could compromise… I still don't want to go to the hospital, and we're going to need to find out how this stuff for  _ into  _ me before we get it  _ out of  _ me first, so you can still run a few tests." 

Max grinned at him. "I'll go grab a few things from the labs, you guys stay here," he said to Andi and Buffy as he began to back towards the door, then he looked at Cyrus. "You sure you're okay for the moment?"

"It's fine," Cyrus said with a reassuring smile. "I'm totally in control. You can go."

Then, he gestured to the door and sent a blast of energy right through it leaving a smoking hole in its wake. Max looked from the hole to him and back again.

"Yeah, okay. You're totally in control."

"That was an accident! I got this. I swear."

He narrowed his eyes at Cyrus, who looked back at him with an expression of what he believed to be totally convincing innocence. Truth be told, Cyrus was a little worried himself that he might blow something more important than a Bunsen burner or a football up soon.

"You know… when you move after doing that, you can almost see the energy. It's like you've got this green kind of atomic shadow following your movements. Kinda trippy."

"Atomic Shadow," Andi mused. "Sounds almost like a comic book character."

Max grinned at her, then looked back at Cyrus once more.

"I'll be right back. Don't point at anything while I'm gone!" Max said, giving him a stern look and then disappearing out of the door.

Cyrus sat on his hands.

 

* * *

 

TJ ignored the urge to check the security cameras for a solid half an hour before giving in. He could practically hear Max's voice in the back of his mind calling him a creep in that annoying teasing tone of his, but it didn't stop him.

"Computer, access the building entry identification database. Run a search for Cyrus Goodman."

**[SEARCH ACTIVATED]**

**[RUNNING: IDENTIFICATION PROTOCOLS]**

**[GUEST IDENTIFIED. SUBJECT 2920.]**

**[SUBJECT ACCESSED BUILDING AT 12:42]**

"Has he left yet?"

**[NEGATIVE]**

"Request location."

**[ACCESSING SECURITY FEED DATA]**

**[SUBJECT LOCATION: PRIVATE OFFICE, MAX KIPPEN]**

Hm. That was unusual. Max didn't often let other people into his office. In fact,  _ he  _ was hardly ever in there himself. He was always too busy running between the labs downstairs, signing important documents and taking notes on the various experiments he had running. Unlike TJ, he didn't shut himself away. Max thrived on socialising, gained his energy from interacting with colleagues and friends, the picture-perfect extrovert. Yet another reason he was more suited to the Kippen family lifestyle of showing off for donors and benefactors. 

TJ wondered what they were doing. Maybe Max was inviting Cyrus to help out on some of his projects - he'd be perfect for it, after all. He ignored the shiver of envy that ran down his spine, unsure of whether it was directed toward Cyrus for being wanted or his brother for getting to spend time with Cyrus.

Maybe he'd head up there himself, make sure everything was alright after the incident at school. That was a perfectly normal thing to do, right? Check on people?

No. No. That would be weird. They didn't know each other that well. TJ had no business going snooping.

…his feet started moving without his permission.

"Screw it," he muttered, slamming the button to Max's floor on the elevator. 

 

* * *

 

It was a good thing he had Buffy and Andi with him because, if not, Cyrus might have mistaken the silhouette that appeared in the doorway of the office for Max returning.

"What are you doing here?" Buffy demanded, tone snippy.

TJ hovered in the entryway, the uncertain look on his face vanishing as soon as Buffy opened her mouth only to be replaced by an irritated scowl. Cyrus wondered if he was aware that he still had his safety goggles on, pushed far up on to the top of his head in a fashion that turned his neatly styled quiff into a bird's nest of hair. There was also a smudge of oil across his cheek, and he fought the urge to walk over to TJ and wipe it off with his thumb. It was annoying how adorable some guys could be without realising it.

"My family owns the building, Driscoll," he responded flatly. "And everything inside it. I've every right to be here."

Buffy rolled her eyes. "I meant in Max's office."

"Just came to see what ol' brother dearest was up to."

She narrowed her eyes at him. TJ's face was blank in a way that Cyrus suspected was deliberate. He was curious about what TJ was doing here too, especially since TJ and Max didn't seem that close, but felt it wasn't his place to question it aloud. 

TJ ignored Buffy and turned to look at Cyrus, expression softening. "'Sup, Goodman. Heard you caused a splash today in chem."

Cyrus grimaced. "Just a small one."

A grin. "Happens to the best of us. I always say you're not a real scientist if you haven't caused an explosion or two."

"Or maybe you're just an idiot," Buffy muttered under her breath.

Cyrus couldn't help but grin back at TJ. His stomach overturned a little, flip-flopping in a most unhelpful manner, forcing him to look away before his face went red. 

"Max is kinda busy right now," he said with an apologetic smile. "He should be back in a few minutes. We can tell him you came by if you want."

TJ shook his head. "Don't worry about it, it's not important. You sure you're okay though? You cut out of school early, right? I didn't see you in Spanish."

"He's fine," Andi said, maybe a little too quickly. TJ quirked an eyebrow at her. 

"I think he can speak for himself."

"I'm fine," Cyrus put in, shooting Andi a warning look.

"You got cold hands or something?"

"What?"

"Your hands," TJ said. "You're sitting on them."

"Oh! Um…" Cyrus resisted the urge to pull his hands out from under his thighs, uncertain as to whether or not he could stop himself from causing another accident. TJ did not need to see him shoot nuclear energy from his fingers - that would definitely scare him off. "This is just how I sit sometimes. Stops me from fidgeting, you know?"

Or maybe Cyrus making a complete fool of himself would scare him off too. Either way, he was pretty sure he looked like an idiot right now. Andi caught his eye and snickered quietly.

TJ's mouth twitched in amusement and he leaned a shoulder against the doorframe. 

"Right…" he said slowly but commented no further on the matter. He simply just smiled at Cyrus, and Cyrus was helpless to do anything but smile back. 

He wanted to ask TJ how his work was going. To ask if he'd made any breakthroughs on the power source for his exoskeleton yet, but that felt like a secret he couldn't share in front of Andi and Buffy. 

"Well, I should be going then-" TJ started, straightening up. Cyrus tried not to let his disappointment show on his face. He liked TJ's presence, more than he should for the little amount of time he'd known him, and it seemed fortune was falling in his favour in that moment, for TJ was prevented from leaving. Max appeared in the doorway behind him, blocking his exit. 

He frowned down at his little brother and dumped the armful of papers and wiring he was clutching on his desk, then shoved TJ away when he tried to lean around him and sneak a nosy look. "What are you doing here?"

TJ huffed and threw up his hands in exaggerated exasperation. "Wow, everyone is just  _ so _ welcoming today."

Max rolled his eyes. "Don't be so dramatic, I just meant- I thought you were working on your own stuff, is all. You never come up here. What are you doing?"

"Can't a guy come and visit his brother every once in a while?"

In an expression that matched Buffy's in an eerie mirroring way, Max's eyes narrowed in suspicion. There was a beat of silence, then his gaze flickered over to Cyrus and back to TJ again. There was a flash of understanding for a brief moment and then it was gone. A mischievous smile began to creep across his face.

"Just came up here to bug me, huh? Not for any other reason at all?"

TJ shrugged. "Just got bored."

"Uh-huh. Sure."

They stared at each other and for a moment they could've been twins for all the ways their body language and facial quirks matched up. It was a moment of silent communication - the kind that only exists between siblings, utterly incomprehensible to the three watching them - then Max pushed up his glasses and TJ readjusted his goggles and whatever agreement they had come to was done being decided. 

"Don't know why I came here for entertainment though," TJ sighed, looking around. In comparison to his workshop, Max's office was rather bland. "I think I got more bored stepping through the door. Have you outlawed personality in your workspace, Max?"

Max snorted and grabbed TJ by the arm, tugging him in and under his bicep to stick him in a headlock. TJ made a loud noise of indignance, shoving at him, but it was no good. The two were an equal match in strength.

They roughhoused for a minute or two, the others watching on with glee and TJ struggled to remove Max's grip by elbow him in the ribs, then Max released him with a laugh and ruffled his hair. 

"Go on, get outta here. No time for distractions."

"Why?" TJ asked, trying to peer around at the papers again. "What are you doing?

"It's none of your business," Buffy snarked.

"Wasn't asking you, Driscoll."

"Oh, go f-"

"Now, now, children," Max warned, amusement still evident on his face though there was a hint more seriousness there now. He grabbed TJ by the shoulders and spun him around, pushing him towards the door. "No the for bickering. We've got work to do- it's nothing of interest to you, Teej. It's work for the clean energy program."

"Ugh."

"Exactly."

"Well, I gotta go. The diagnostics I was running will be done. Driscoll, Mack," he nodded at the girls, then shot a sweet smile at Cyrus. "Cyrus. See you around. Try to avoid blowing yourself up again, this place would be way more boring without you."

Cyrus flushed as he watched him disappear out the door. He ignored the raised eyebrows from Max.

 

* * *

 

It took longer than TJ expected for Max to bring it up. Three days went by after he visited his office, and usually when Max was feeling nosy it took less than three  _ hours  _ for him to start asking questions, but to his credit, the two brothers barely saw each other in those three days.

Things at the labs had gotten very busy. There had been a security crackdown for reasons still undisclosed to TJ. He didn't really care - crackdowns happened often in the building. It was a side effect of having a prestigious and valuable science company in a prominent location. New York wasn't the best place for it, but the city was home and the Kippens had no plans to move. No matter how under threat they were.

**[WELCOME, CAPTAIN GLITTERPANTS]**

TJ looked up from his welding at the sound of the computer's announcement. Max sauntered through the sliding doors with ease, rolling his eyes at the name.

"Please fix that before the annual Benefactor Tour," he said. 

"There's nothing to fix," TJ muttered distractedly in response, shutting off the blowtorch and lifting up the core he'd been fixing to examine it in a brighter light. "'Sides, it's not like you're showing any of them around in here."

"God, imagine if we did," Mused Max. "I think mom would have a heart attack."

" _ 'You showed them TJ's workshop?!' _ " TJ straightened up, doing his best imitation of Emily's disapproving tone in an exaggerated high pitch. " _ 'They'll think us unprofessional Don't you boys ever think things through before you do them.' _ "

Max laughed and wandered over to take the core from him, expecting it himself. "That was pretty good."

"I know," he replied with a shrug. "I've been practising."

"What is this?"

"It's the power core for the exoskeleton. I updated it."

"It's smaller than before. I thought your problem was finding a battery powerful enough to keep it going, you think shrinking it is going to help?"

TJ shrugged and snatched it back. "It's just a prototype."

"Why don't you try looking through the archives in the basement? Maybe there's work down there that you could revisit- might help you out."

"Dad barred my access, says I can't be trusted after last time."

"Well… I mean you  _ did  _ set the files on fire."

"It wasn't my fault! What are we doing holding on to  _ paper  _ files anyway? Everything else is digital these days."

"Security."

"Fuck security."

Max shook his head. "Why don't you just hack the access pads? It's not like you couldn't."

"Hacking doesn't do much to stop me from getting physically tackled to the ground. He's got guards stationed down there now."

"Hm."

TJ sighed wistfully. His dad had said he could access the records if he asked someone else to retrieve and copy them for him, but that seemed like a lot of hassle to go to for something he was sure he could figure out himself. Besides, it would mean  _ talking  _ to people.

"What are you doing up here anyway?" He asked Max, turning back to his work on the desk.

"Can't a guy come and visit his brother once in a while," Max replied, all faux innocence in his echo of TJ's words from a few days before.

TJ scowled at him. Max grinned in response, perching himself on the corner of one of the counters and looking around. The quiet that fell across them unsettled TJ, for once he felt uneasy even with the whirs and clicks of the lab around them. Max had that expression on his face, the kind that had mischief threaded into the very fabric of it. He hates when Max wore that expression.

And for good reason.

"You know, you can easily do something about your crush on Cyrus," Max said. "Like, oh… I don't know… asking him out? Maybe? He likes coffee. You like coffee. Seems like the perfect common ground for a date."

"I don't have a crush on him!" TJ fired back much too fast as he folded his arms in a defensive shield across his chest. Then he paused, eyes darting from Max to the floor. "...but like... say I did, hypothetically, do you think he likes me back?"

"I think that's something you have to work out for yourself man. Like I said, you could try asking him on a date."

"I don't wanna," TJ mumbled.

"I think you do."

"It's not the right time."

"Uh-huh."

"I have other things to focus on."

"Sure."

"And I'm sure he does too."

" _Chicken_."

TJ squawked in indignation. "Am not!"

"Are too."

"Am not!"

"Are- this is dumb. Just get over yourself and do it."

TJ flipped him off. "Screw you."

"How can you be totally happy to leap from tall buildings to test jet packs, or to stick your arm in unidentified substances to see what happens, but freak out at the thought of asking a dude out for coffee?"

"I'm not freaking out," he insisted. Then mutter ed something unintelligible.

"I'm sorry, what?"

He sighed. "What if he says  _ no _ ?"

Max let out a long-suffering sigh and turned away, shaking his head in disbelief as he headed back out the door. "You're an idiot!" He called as he disappeared down the hall. 

TJ wasn't sure how to take that.

 

* * *

 

**_One month later._ **

Like an acrobat training to walk the tightrope, Cyrus learned to live with his powers slow and steady. As far as they could tell from the tests that Max had run, and he'd run many, Cyrus' wasn't going to implode anytime soon. In fact, most of those tests had come back showing the anatomy and DNA of a normal teenage boy, with the exception of the occasional glowing atom in blood tests…

_ "Stop moving!" Max ordered, batting Cyrus' hands away from the wires attached to his skin. _

_ "The electrolytes are  _ itchy," _ Cyrus complained in response. _

...So many tests…

_ "Portal test forty-three," Buffy spoke clearly into the recorder she held. "Test objective is for the subject to achieve the manifestation of multiple portals at once. So far previous tests have proved unsuccessful. Ready, Cyrus?" _

_ He nodded. _

_ "Go!" _

_ He opened the first portal no trouble, then thrust his hands out to open a second. It didn't open. Instead, he sent himself flying backwards threw the air -  _ hard.

_ "...Portal test forty-three marked unsuccessful." _

It was exhausting.

_ The clock read 01:43 AM. Cyrus had called his Bubbe and told her he was staying at a friend's house tonight. The light to Max's office was one of the few on in the empty building. _

_ "So your theory is," Andi said from where she was half asleep at the desk, tiredness obvious in the bags under her eyes. "Your theory is that if you went through the portal into space you could survive." _

_ "My wounds heal almost ten times as fast as a normal person now," Cyrus said. "I feel like that means I'm less likely to suffocate in outer space." _

_ "You're insane," Andi smiled. "How did you even figure that out?" _

_ "Cut myself shaving last week. Then I tested it a few times." _

_ "What do you mean you tested it?" Buffy asked. _

_ "With a knife-" _

_ "Okay!" Max interjected, slamming his notebook closed. "You know I think the late hours are getting to all of us now. Bedtime, c'mon. And no more injuring yourself on purpose, Cy. There are safer ways to test your healing rate, Holy Christ." _

Needless to say, Cyrus hadn't had much time to focus on things outside of his newfound powers. Things like Reed Wilson being a jerk. 

"Watch it, Goodman!" He laughed as Cyrus went sprawling to the ground. Reed had stuck out his foot as Cyrus hurried down the hall to meet the girls. "Can't believe the school lets freaks like you in here. You can't even walk without tripping over your own feet."

Cyrus scowled at him but said nothing. Instead, he just scrambled to pick his books up, pushing himself to his feet and trying to ignore the way the back of his neck prickled with humiliated heat as Reed and his friends continued to call after him.

As he rushed past, a girl opened her locker and swore as her books fell out. It was then that Cyrus got an idea. 

It was pretty, a little childish, and unlike anything Cyrus had ever done before. Usually, he was a firm believer of giving people a chance to change, but just this once he wanted to give Reed a taste of his own medicine.

When Reed opened his locker the next day he was greeted with a face full of sticky foam and food dye. It took three washes to get it all out of his hair, and his face was blue for the next four days.

Turned out portals were pretty handy when you needed to break into someone's locker without being detected.

* * *

 

"Don't say no before I've finished explaining," Andi said as she hurried into the lab. "I think it's a really good idea."

She dumped a pile of folders on the desk. They were in Max's office once again. They had met almost every day after school now, and even on weekends, trying to figure out exactly what was going on with Cyrus. He hadn't been allowed near the Gamorite again, Max insisted it was too risky and he didn't want any of them getting hurt in case the first time Cyrus had touched it was a fluke.

"Oh no," Buffy said. 

A sense of deep foreboding overcame Cyrus as he looked down at the folders. She had flipped them open, but they weren't calculations like he had come to expect, instead they were sketches. Sketches of clothes. Strange outfits in a wide variety of styles. They all had one thing in common.

"Are masks coming back into fashion now?" He asked, picking up one of the sketches.

It was of a faceless figure in a black domino mask, thick hooded jacket and heavy boots.

Andi made a face at him and snatched the picture out of his grip. "Some of them are works in progress. These are the better ones."

She handed him a stack of loose pages. He flicked through them one by one. They were altered versions of the same outfit, only slicker and more streamlined. 

"These are really good, Andi," Cyrus said.

Andi blushed, pleased.

"So what are these for?" He continued. "Halloween costumes?"

"Cyrus, you can't be that stupid," Buffy sighed at the same time that Andi said, "No, they're for you."

His brow creased in confusion. "What?"

"Cyrus, you have  _ superpowers, _ " Andi said as if he was missing something very obvious. 

"So…?"

Understanding dawned on him with unwanted suddenness as he took in their expectant expressions. Oh no. No, no, no.

"No," he said, dropping the pictures onto the desk. "Just no."

"But you haven't even heard me out yet," Andi object with a slight whine.

"I don't need to," he started backing away. "I'm not- I'm not going to put on a costume and go around trying to, I don't know,  _ fight crime  _ or whatever. I'm not a superhero, guys."

"Cyrus, you can shoot  _ energy _ out of your  _ hands _ ."

"That means I'm a freak of nature, not a hero!"

"Oh come on," Andi started. "You're such a good person, Cyrus. I can't think of anyone better suited to being a superhero. You're kind and brave, you stand up to people - think of all the good you can do with the neutron pulses-"

"Neutron pulses?!"

"Well, your powers need an identifier. We can't keep calling them energy blasts. I figure we can refer to all of them as 'atomic manipulation', but if we need a  _ distinction _ then portal creation and neutron pulses work well, right? And you'll need a name too. I was thinking we could go with Max's idea, the Atomic Shadow! What do you think?"

He started shaking his head, heart reaching a frantic pound in his chest. "I think you're crazy.  _ This _ is crazy!"

"Cyrus-"

"No! No, Andi. I've been willing to run tests and work out the science, but this is too far. This isn't a game! I'm not cut out to be some kind of- superheroes don't exist for a reason. They're fiction! I mean look at me, I can barely even walk in a straight line. I'm more likely to hurt someone using my powers in public than to help them. It's a  _ terrible  _ idea."

"But-"

"No."

Andi's face fell and her shoulders slumped in dejection as she gathered up her sketches. "I just thought- you know what, never mind."

"Oh, come on. What were you going to say?"

She sighed and gave him a hard look. "I just thought you'd want to use them for something good. You could help so many people, Cyrus."

"How? How, Andi? By blasting holes through them? Launching them into space? I don't think so."

"It was just an idea."

"I think it's a great idea."

In the heat of their disagreement, none of them had noticed Max come in. He leaned against a wall, arms folded, watching them with an intense look of thought on his face. He relaxed and stepped towards them, taking the pictures from Andi's hands and flipping through them himself.

"Cyrus is right, these are good, Andi. And Cyrus… I think maybe Andi is onto something here, I know you're not sure about it, but think- you could protect people. You could give people help. All we would need to do is track the recent crime in local areas… all you'd have to do is scare some people off. You know there's a lot of gang problems going on at the moment… and in this political climate, people could use someone like you to look up to. They could use some hope."

Cyrus laughed a cold and empty laughed. "Not you too."

Max peered over his glasses at him. "We'd watch your back. Protect you."

"This isn't a movie," Cyrus said. "You guys are getting way ahead of yourselves. Buffy, what do you think?"

Everybody looked at her.

"Uh… I mean, it's kind of a dangerous idea, but…" She shrugged. "It's not like you couldn't protect yourself."

"You've been given a gift here, Cyrus," Andi stressed. "Are you just going to waste it on humiliating people like Reed for the rest of your life or are you going to use it for good?"

Max frowned. "Humiliating Reed? Seriously, Cyrus? That's just sinking down to his level."

Pressure. Too much pressure. He could feel his skin start to prickle. Television static. It was moving all over again. Everyone deciding who he should be, where he should,  _ what  _ he should be without him getting a say in it. 

To Reed, he was a loser who wasn't going anywhere, to his parents he was a helpless boy who needed his future figured out for him, and for these guys… well, now he was an idiot misusing his powers. Not doing enough. Never doing enough.

He was never good enough, plain and simple.

His fingers began to spark.

"Wow," He huffed. "Wow guys, I'm so glad you've got it all worked out. It's great that  _ you  _ have  _ my  _ life figured out."

"Cyrus-" Max started. 

"No, no. I've had enough of this. This is- I don't know what I'm doing here," he shook his head, unsteady on his feet. "I'm not- I don't know why this is happening to me. I don't know what you  _ want  _ from me. I'm not- I'm not a hero. I wasn't meant to- when they said growing up was hard I didn't think they meant I'd be getting  _ superpowers _ . I can't do this!"

"Cyrus!" His friends called after him, but the portal was already open. And in a split second, he had vanished.

 

* * *

 

_ "Cyrus… I know you probably don't want to talk right now, and that's okay. I understand. I just wanted to say that I get it. Things have been crazy lately, especially for you. We had no right to put all that pressure on you. I think I just got so excited by this whole new world of possibilities that I forgot to stop and think about how it must feel for you. You deserved better than that. I'm sorry. I just hope we haven't pushed you away for good. Mentoring you, working with you, these past few weeks has been amazing. You're a special kid, and not just because of your powers. I hope you know that. You don't have to return this call, but please know that if there's one place you're always welcome, it's here." _

The voicemail ended with a beep and Cyrus took a deep shuddering breath. He'd listened to it three times now. Max had left it half an hour ago, but he wasn't sure whether to call back or not. Right now he was perched on top of a roof, watching over New York City.

In the distance he could see Kippen & Co. labs nestled in between the other high-rises, stretching tall and sturdy into the sky, the fall sunlight dancing on the glass.

He sighed to himself and looked up to the sky. It was empty, vast and blue with a seasonal haze dimming the colour. It was strange to think there was so much up there that he couldn't see right now, but he  _ had  _ seen. He was the only person in the world who could summon that particular view of the stars whenever he wanted.

The only one.

Alone.

_ Why him? _

His introspection was interrupted by an explosion in the distance, and he watched in horror as the glass of the laboratories shattered as the building went up in flames.

 


	9. Forgive Me Father

**“...we’re reporting live in Manhattan following an explosion at the world-famous Kippen & Co. Science Centre, the police have confirmed multiple casualties…”**

_ “There’s still people inside!” He screamed. “I’ve got to help them.” _

_ “Max, no!” TJ screamed after him, the tips of his fingers just failing to grab the end of his coat as he reached out. Arms pulled him back, yelling at him to stay put. The heat from the fire rolled over them in waves. He watched as his brother ducked past the firefighters and disappeared into the thick fog of smoke. “NO!” _

**“...Breaking: Fatal blast claims the lives of three more, death toll rises to thirty-three… foul play suspected… previous reports of security breaches...”**

_ By the time the building had begun to collapse, TJ had been pulled half a block away and fallen to his knees. Black clouds billowed out of the upper floors like a terrible smoke signal and flames licked the edges of the skyline. Before his very eyes, his whole world began to crumble. In a shattering of glass, the whine of steel giving out, and the acrid smell of his life burning it was all gone. Everything he had once had, everything he had complained about, everything he had loved. Everything. _

**“...broadcasting live from just outside Saint Margaret’s Church where the funerals of scientists Emily and Richard Kippen, and their son Maxwell Kippen, are taking place. It’s been six days since the tragic accident which claimed their lives, an explosion…”**

_ Gone. _

 

* * *

 

Silence hung heavy in the church. A moment for the dead, not enough to make up for the entire lifetime they would miss. In the front pews sat family, TJ flanked by his cousins and Alec. All day they had attempted to comfort him with soft touches to his shoulder, aborted hugs halfway-in and weak tries for smiles, but he noticed none of it. He didn’t even notice the pitying looks sent his way throughout the service - he just sat and stared straight ahead, seeing nothing. 

There had been a persistent ringing in his ears for the past six days and it screamed on in the distant background like an alarm bell trying too-late to warn him that everything was going to hell. His lungs were worn through by sobs he could no longer muster and his eyes had no tears left to give. He had screamed, he had pleaded, he had even put his fist through a wall, but none of this had brought his family back to him. Nothing ever would.

Truth be told, this was a truth he was finding difficult to accept. He had checked into a hotel three days prior, when the expectation that Max or one of his parents would walk through the doorway to the kitchen in the apartment to join him any moment became all too unbearable. Wherever he looked in that place he saw ghosts of them, faint memories of laughter or arguments, the one dent in the wall from that time he and Max had accidentally knocked the coffee table into it while they were wrestling. Whiffs of his mom’s perfume, a spare pair of his father’s glasses waiting on the counter for an owner who would never return to collect them, a pair of battered sneakers. It all just made him feel sick now. It was just a reminder.

_ Alone. Alone. Alone. _

He had wanted to box it all up and be done with it, but Alec was having none of it. He insisted it would only end in regret, and so TJ had chosen to get the hell out of there instead. Box himself up and be done with it.

It was pure luck, a ‘blessing’, is what the priest had to say about TJ’s survival, though that was a notion he vehemently rejected himself. It was no luck - it was a coincidence. It was a simple coincidence that should have saved Max too, but he had been too stubborn. Too good. No, if it had been luck then TJ wouldn’t have been made to witness it all. Instead, he had watched as the glass rained down on the sidewalks the way no weatherman could have predicted. He had watched as his brother ran back inside in a futile attempt to save people who were already dead. And he had watched, bearing witness with awful numbness, all too aware that his parents had been in a meeting on the fifty-second floor, just three floors above where the initial explosion occurred.

The flames protruded from the very window he knew to be that of the conference they had sat in.

_ Alone. Alone. Alone. _

It wasn’t just his family he lost that day, but a part of himself. A part of his soul, maybe, ripped out by the violent cataclysm in the sky above them all and extinguished with the collapse of a building. Part of his soul taken with them - the three souls who had raised him - as they departed.

_ Gone. _

“I think we can all agree that the world has lost something special,” the priest was saying, and he looked directly at TJ as he said it, but it fell on deaf ears. Ringing ears.

When people had spoken of grief to him before he had imagined it to be a solid and linear thing, something ever-present and predictable, but he had been wrong. Grief was a whirlwind of sickness, of hatred and misery, and the empty feeling that came with having a large chunk of everything you ever knew ripped away without warning. Grief was a ghost itself and it haunted him while he slept. It made him vicious, cruel, lashing out at those around him. And they let him. They let him settle into a darkness that none of them wanted to touch.

It settled into him too - hard and immovable in his chest like an iron vice around his heart. Venom pumped through his veins like a machine, poisoning his thoughts and dreams. The echoes, oh the echoes-

_ “...he’s gone! TJ, you can’t follow him, he’s gone,” Buffy Driscoll had him by the shoulders, her face wet with tears, shaking him and trying to get through while he struggled. The world around them was in chaos, screaming and sirens and smoke. “TJ, please-” _

The echoes and visions of his brother disappearing through that doorway. The whining scrape of steel as it gave way.

Resurrection was not an option, but vengeance was. If TJ could return his family to the living, then he would ensure that their killers joined them in death. And under his breath he whispered, “Forgive me father,” then got up and walked away. 


	10. Doing The Right Thing

_ The air smells like burning flesh. He falls to his knees gagging on it, the smoke swirling in his lungs until there was no room left for oxygen. It feels like life is leaving him, seeping right from his body and mind and swirling up like the smoke itself, as the building above him only becomes more alive with flame. He can’t get inside. He can’t even get close enough, the heat is too much, too painful. He’s close enough to hear it all though. The cracks, sizzles and pops. The creaking sound of caving metal right before it crashed to the ground and shattered bones like glass.  _

_ The screaming. _

_ It’s all burning into him. Burned into his mind like a brand.  _

_ He could have stopped this. _

Cyrus woke up choking on nothing. It took him a moment to come back to himself, a few seconds before he realised he was in his bed drenched with the sweat of a nightmare rather than sweat from real heat. It had been like this for the past month. He would go to sleep every night, hoping and praying he’ll sleep until morning undisturbed, only to be haunted by the ghost of that awful burning building. Once he’d woken up, shaken off the sounds of the pained screams that echoed through his head, he felt the same disgust as always creep up through his stomach. Disgust, guilt, rage. All of it twisting his guts out of place.

He ticked the feelings off as they came like some sort of horrifying mental checklist. The disgust was for himself because while he could wake up from a nightmare, the people in that nightmare would never wake up again, and he could not complain when he still had a full future ahead of him. The guilt was for the fact he could have stopped it.  _ Should _ have stopped it. Why didn’t he stop it? If he’d only stayed behind, if he hadn’t left the labs in a strop the way he had, then maybe he could have stopped the bomb. Or at least, he could have stopped Max from running back inside. Then finally, the rage. Rage at himself, rage at the world in general, rage at whoever was responsible for way glass rained down on New York that day.

Why didn’t he stop it? He could have stopped it.

Stumbling into the bathroom, he clicked on the light and stared at himself in the mirror. It couldn’t be much later than four in the morning, but it was the latest he’d slept in for weeks. His eyes were heavy with dark shadows as he willed himself to look more alive. Less like a shell. He had no right to look this broken… it wasn’t his life that had been destroyed. Not his life that had been taken.

He could have stopped it. 

Before he could stop himself, he found himself wondering if TJ looked as broken as he did when looking in the mirror these days. Groaning, he leaned forward and rested his forehead on the cool glass. He shouldn’t be wondering anything about TJ right now. TJ wanted to be left alone. He didn’t want people wondering things about him. He had told Cyrus as much after the funeral.

_ “TJ, hey.” _

_ For a moment, TJ doesn’t even seem to register Cyrus’ hand on his shoulder. He doesn’t even register Cyrus, honestly. Just stares right through him for one unsettling moment, as if he can see something terrible that Cyrus can’t and he had resigned himself to suffering through it, and then the recognition hits and he’s meeting his eye. _

_ He doesn’t say anything, just looks at him. Cyrus wishes he could stop feeling so much like he’s going to throw up. Behind him, Buffy and Andi linger on the sidewalk watching the two of them with sombre faces. He knows, without even asking, that they feel just as guilty about Max as he does right at that moment. Looking at the slump of TJ’s shoulders, the shut-off look on his face, it’s hard not to feel that guilt. _

‘He has no one now,’ _ Cyrus thinks to himself. He can’t imagine how alone he must be feeling.  _

_ “I just wanted to say,” he starts, then stops again. He’s not sure what he wants to say. He didn’t plan coming over here, he was going to wait a few days and give TJ some space first, but then he had found himself wondering who would be there to offer him an ear if Cyrus didn’t. He didn’t think Reed and Lester were the kind of guys who understood mourning. “I’m sorry.” _

_ ‘I’m sorry.’  _

_ His own words seem to ring in his ears, too obvious and too harsh. He tried to pack as much meaning in there as he could, but it doesn’t feel like it’s come through at all. It sounds like nothing more than the empty gesture of a stranger offering their condolences. He wants to give TJ more than an apology, more than two words and a pat on the shoulder, but he’s not sure what to say. He wants to scream and shout and cry, but that won’t get them anywhere. He wants to tell him that Max loved him, was proud of him, talked about him all the time, but the distant look in TJ’s eyes stops him. _

_ He doesn’t know what to do. _

_ “If you ever need anything-” _

_ “I don’t.” TJ’s words and so abrupt, so sharp, that Cyrus takes an automatic step back. He feels a flash of hurt and sees a flicker of something almost  _ vicious  _ strike right through TJ’s eyes, and then TJ steps away and shoves his hands in his pockets. “Just leave me alone.” _

_ Rain begins to fall as Cyrus watches him go as if they are at the centre of some sick poem about grief. His heart thuds, his stomach twists, and he can’t tell if it’s tears or raindrops on his face when the girls wrap their arms around him. He wishes they could go back, but they can’t. Max isn’t here to help them now. Nobody is. _

Cyrus hadn’t spoken to TJ since then. In fact, he was pretty sure nobody had. You’d have to be an idiot to try approaching him these days. Even Reed and the other guys had backed off. At school, he was always given a wide berth in the corridors now, people were too scared to even make eye contact with him. TJ didn’t want to be bothered, he’d handed out a couple of black eyes just to show as much, and nobody knew what to say anymore.

Sorrow filled Cyrus when he thought about how lonely it must be. To go from being the king of the world one second to watching your whole world burn the next. He could feel tears pricking at his eyes again and he hurried to rinse them with cool water. It was surprising he had any tears left to cry at the moment, he had spent the past month tearing up at almost anything.

“Pull yourself together,” he muttered into the mirror, but the boy that looked back still looked broken. He couldn’t go on like this. He had to do something. 

Retrieving his phone, he opened the group chat between himself, Andi and Buffy and typed out a quick message.

**Cyrus: You still got those costume ideas?**

And as he hit send, he felt the solid certainty of  _ doing the right thing _ settle in his gut for the first time since Max’s death.

  
  


*

 

“TJ?”

The light flicked on and TJ looked up to find Alec stood in the doorway with a pitying expression on his face. He fought not to grind his teeth - he hated that expression. Nothing felt worse than pity these days, probably because it was the only thing he saw everywhere he looked.

“What are you doing down there?”

TJ was slumped on the living room floor. He had finally built up the courage to return to the apartment, but after doing so he had dealt with the feelings that had welled up by picking the lock of his father’s whiskey cabinet and helping himself to one or two glasses. Or maybe three or four. He couldn’t really remember. That had been a while ago though, and he could feel the world coming back to him along with the dread and the tragedy and the confusion. 

“Oh, I was just… you know,” he gestured to the scattered mess around him. Along with the whiskey, he had pulled out several photo albums from the bookshelves and the Memory Box his mother had kept under the coffee table. Memories lay at his feet in the form of photographs and letters, along with a collection of Disney badges they’d bought on weekend trips to theme parks when TJ and Max were small. As a kid, TJ had thought they were dumb and a little embarrassing. Now, just looking at them filled him with a yearning regret. He should have appreciated them more. Just like how he should have appreciated his mother more.

“You want some helping cleaning up?” Alec asked, wondering over and crouching down to look at the mess himself.

TJ nodded, trying to seem less helpless than he felt, but it didn’t feel like it worked. Alec made an understanding face and patted his knee, then proceeded to clear away the bottle and glass before picking up the pictures. TJ leaned back against the wall with a sigh.

“Do you think they knew?”

“Hm?”

“My parents. Do you think they knew they were going to die? There had been security breaches, they knew somebody wanted their work. Not such a big stretch to guess someone might attack. Plus, Dad always joked about how mom knew everything. Do you think people can feel it coming? When they die?”

Alec paused, then shook his head. “If they had known, they would have fought it. They wouldn’t have wanted to leave you behind like this.”

A moment of silence, and then much to his own horror TJ felt a choked sobbed well up inside of him and escape from his mouth. “I wish they’d taken me with them.”

He felt Alec’s arms close around him as he fought to return his breathing to normal.

“I shouldn’t be there,” he mumbled wetly into his shoulder. “I shouldn’t-”

Alec shushed him gentle and patted him on the back in as comforting a fashion as he was able. They sat like that, huddled on the floor, until the tears subsided and TJ began to feel thoroughly embarrassed. 

“Sorry,” he said, pulling back and wiping at his eyes. Alec waved off the apology.

“No shame in grief, my friend. But drinking never helps with this stuff, no matter how much you think it will. So next time the whiskey cabinet seems tempting, leave locked. Yes?”

TJ nodded. 

“Come on, let’s get you into bed so you can sleep it off.”

 

*

 

The next morning, TJ trudged into the living room with a pounding head wishing Alec had been there to warn him against the drinks  _ before  _ he’d consumed them. The floor was still scattered with the contents from the memory box, and Alec was gone. Presumably, he’d gone back to work. He was helping oversee the repairs to the labs. TJ had regarded him with bitterness when he’d told him that the company was wasting no time making sure all the projects got back up and running, but he supposed it wasn’t his fault. Alec didn’t call the shots, he only signed off on them. Calling the shots was technically TJ’s job now, or at least it would be when he graduated.

A piece of paper crunched underneath his foot as he headed towards the kitchen.

**_‘WONDERBOY BUILDS ROBOT AT AGE FIVE.’_ **

It was an old newspaper clipping, with a faded picture of a small boy playing with a metal frame. With a frown, he leaned down and picked it up. The article was about him, discussing the first fully functioning helper robot he’d ever built. For a moment, his heart ached for Fudge and Chocolate. 

As he moved to put it down again, he paused, noticing that there was something scrawled across the back of it. Flipping it over, he found two sets of handwriting. A note and response, in his father and mother’s respective penmanship. 

_ ‘Emily, take a look at our boy and see into the future with me. I don’t think I could be any prouder.’  _

_ ‘There are going to be a lot of proud moments when it comes to TJ - better prepare yourself now.’ _

There was a sweet smiley face drawn beside his mother’s writing, and suddenly TJ found his heart aching for a lot more than robots. It was something his parents did sometimes when they were so busy at the labs that they barely saw each other. They would leave each other notes on the kitchen counter, often saying good morning or goodnight or reminding one another to order something for a new experiment. TJ and Max had always laughed about them, but now he couldn’t remember what had been so funny.

They had loved one another a lot, Emily and Richard Kippen.

_ 'Until death do us part.' _

As if a switch had been flipped in his body, the cold fury he’d felt at the funeral returned to him in one righteous wave. It was not right that all which remained of his parents could be found only in letters and a scientific legacy. It wasn’t right.

He was out the door before he knew what he was doing. It wouldn’t take long to get to the labs. He was going to put things right.

  
  
  



	11. Searching For Answers

“I look like a crazy person.”

For the past few days, Andi had seemed to do nothing but eat, nap and work. She had switched her time between the temporary labs set up for Kippen & Co. and the sewing machine in her bedroom, ignoring Buffy and Cyrus when they would come over and check on her. After the first couple of times she’d kicked them out and forbade them to come back until she told them to, then two hours ago she’d finally called. Now Cyrus stood in her bedroom admiring himself in a full-length mirror. He really didn’t look like himself anymore; the boy in the mirror who stared back was less a boy and more a man. Tall, hooded and muscular looking underneath all the padding. Threatening, almost. The kind of person who lurked in the shadows and made you walk a little bit faster down the street. It was equal parts unsettling and awesome.

“You can shoot blasts of energy from your hands and you’re worried about  _ looking  _ crazy?” Buffy asked with a look of incredulity on her face. 

He stuck his tongue out at her in response. In his opinion there was a difference between being able to do crazy things and actively looking the part, especially since up until this year the craziest thing he’d been able to do was roll his tongue. Unfortunately, Andi seemed to have decided he  _ needed _ to look the part. There was even a colour scheme.

Buffy rolled her eyes and punched him in the shoulder lightly. “Mature.”

“You suck.”

“ _ Oh _ , good come back.”

He turned back to the mirror, eyeing himself warily. From behind the mask, his face was only mildly identifiable, and there was a piece a cowl around the neck which almost resembled a cowboy’s bandana but made of something much sturdier, that he could pull up over his mouth and nose if he needed to keep warm. With the hood up, he was a complete stranger. Disguised by shadows. There was just one thing that bothered him about it all.

“Why all the green again? I look like Robin gone rogue. If Batman were real he’d beat me up for identity theft.”

“Or he might adopt you,” Buffy said. 

“Equally likely options.”

“Shut up, both of you,” Andi huffed, coming over from the table covered in fabric to readjust the hem of Cyrus’ sleeve. “It’s green like your energy. I thought it was nice… distinct. Gives you a theme.”

Buffy made a face behind her back and Cyrus resisted the urge to laugh. 

“Still,” she pointed out. “It’s not very stealthy is it?”

Andi scowled and prodded one of the dark buttons on his thick belt. As if by magic, the bright green of the suit sucked back into itself leaving nothing but black in its wake. 

“Holy shit.”

He scrabbled at the belt, examining the rest of the buttons. There were three in total.

“Camo,” Smugness radiated from Andi as she pointed at the button she’d just pressed, the moved on to the other two. “For when you don’t want to be seen in the dark. Flashlight-” A small light on the belt flared to life. “-that’s detachable. And, finally, grappling hook.”

She pressed the last button and a small hatch on the belt opened. From there, she tugged the end of a hook attached to a lightweight wire. Ah, that explained the thickness of the belt.

“It should stretch for at least seven feet.”

“Wow, you really thought of everything.”

“I don’t know about that,” she bit her lip. “I did my research, but I might’ve missed something. You can give me updates as you go so I can make alterations… oh, and that reminds me.”

She retreated to her desk briefly to rummage through a drawer and then return holding a small black earpiece. “Comms.”

“Comms?”

In her other hand, she held up two identical pieces. “So Buffy and I can talk to you while you’re out.”

Oh. He took it and slid it into his ear. The design was so sleek and comfortable that he had to double-check he’d actually put it in at first. It crackled to life.

“It has a pretty decent range, and we’re the only ones with access to the channel it’s tuned into.”

“I didn’t know you worked on radio-tech.”

“I don’t,” she said, with a guilty shift. Cyrus narrowed his eyes.

“Andi…”

“I might have stolen it. A little bit. From the labs.”

“Oh my God.”

“They were only prototypes! They got saved from the wreckage, but I’m pretty sure they were part of a project that got scrapped, so it’s not like anybody’s going looking for them any time soon.”

“That’s billion-dollar tech,” Buffy said, seemingly uncertain whether to be more impressed or horrified. “You could go to jail.”

“Pfft, oh please,” Andi waved her off. “It’s chaotic over there at the moment - nobody’s organised enough to keep a track of every single item right now, they didn’t even have the full inventory set up when I took them. Even if they do notice they were gone, they’ll probably chalk it up to a mislaid box somewhere in all the confusion. It’s fine.”

“You’re insane.”

She shrugged. “I do what I have to.”

Cyrus stared at her in awe. Andi had always been a surprise, according to Buffy. He was starting to see what she meant by it. She seemed all sweet and innocent until she was committing a felony and convincing you to tag along.

“Okay, you should be good to go. It’s bulletproof, fireproof, waterproof _ and _ most of the suit is made out of shock-absorbing material,” she counted things off on her fingers as she listed them. “Except right in the joints because otherwise it won’t bend properly and I figured you’d want to be able to move.”

Where on earth she’d dug up the material for all of this he didn’t know, but he was certain she hadn’t acquired it legally. It only took a two-minute hesitation to decide it wasn’t worth asking. The less he knew, the better. For his own peace of mind.

He looked back at himself. “I’m still not sure about the domino mask.”

“I like it,” Buffy said, through a mouthful of chips. “It’s classic.”

“You need to keep your face hidden,” Andi said. “And I figured this was more breathable than a full-on helmet-mask situation. You can’t fight crime if you’re sweating to death.”

Right. Fighting crime. Even standing there in what was very nearly military-grade gear, it didn’t feel real. What seventeen-year-old boy spent his free time tracking down criminals outside of comic books? It was a little bit ridiculous for anyone to do that, let alone  _ him  _ of all people. 

“Speaking of that,” he sighed and turned to Buffy. “What’ve we got so far?”

While Andi had been deep in the costume development zone, Buffy and Cyrus had kept themselves busy with their own project. Buffy ruffled through her backpack and tugged out a large binder.

“Research?” Andi asked.

Buffy nodded. “News articles, police statements, recovered security reports…”

Okay, so Andi hadn’t been the only one who had committed some mildly illegal theft in the name of the good fight. It hadn’t taken the two of them long to hack into the NYPD database and dig up the things they needed. The security reports for Kippen & Co. had taken longer, but not by much. Andi was right, in the aftermath of the blast everything really was in a shambles.

“What’ve we got?”

It was common knowledge at this point; the explosion had been deliberate. Sure accidents happened, especially in a set of laboratories filled with dangerous technology and chemical, but not like this. It had been revealed by the police department that the labs had been working with them and a private investigation unit to look into a smattering of security breaches in the months leading up to the explosion. Somebody had wanted something in the labs, and they had wanted it  _ badly _ .

Maybe even so badly they were willing to kill.

“It looks like the main suspects so far have been rival companies,” Buffy said, flicking through the pages. “Mostly Brodsky Corporations, but that doesn’t seem right to me.”

“Oh?”

“Brodsky aren’t exactly failing with their own tech. Sure, it’s not as high quality, but it’s good enough that they have like a ton of military contracts and stuff. The Kippens pretty famously refused to work with the military, said it didn’t match up with their values, so it’s not like they were encroaching on each other’s territories or anything.”

“Unless…” Cyrus started, then bit his lip. They both looked at him. “Well, I mean, what if Brodsky Corp. found out about the Gamorite?”

In the days following the explosion, thoughts of the Gamorite had come back to haunt Cyrus more than once. There was nothing lucky about the situation at hand, but the fact that the Gamorite hadn’t turned the blast nuclear was nothing short of a miracle. The three of them had tried to find out what happened to it in the aftermath, but there was so little record of it in the first place that it made tracking down information difficult. It must have been moved.

Andi made an interested noise. “He’s right. Something that powerful would be of interest to everyone - imagine the weapons you could make from it. I mean, look at Cyrus.”

Red crept across Cyrus’ face. ‘Weapon’ wasn’t the sort of word he’d ever wanted to use to describe himself.

Buffy shook her head and pulled out a thick wad of articles and held them up. “There’s no record of any other companies knowing anything about Gamorite or Project Mystery. In fact, publicly it’s stated that the project was scrapped after a year and deemed unsuccessful.”

They all glanced at one another. Max had said it had been kept a secret, but he hadn’t mentioned the lengths to which the company had gone in order to cover it up.

“What if there was a mole? Someone leaking company secrets.”

Buffy looked pleased. “Actually, that’s where I was going with this. Now there’s no mention of any rivals even knowing a little about it,  _ but  _ there is a record of an arrest a few years ago. A scientist named Evan Harper. I don’t know if you guys remember.”

Something about the name rang a bell in Cyrus’ mind. 

“Evan Harper…” he said slowly.

“The mafia guy?” Andi asked suddenly, and the lightbulb lit up.

“Bingo.”

In 2016, a scientist by the name of Evan Harper had been working for the Kippens when he’d been arrested for his suspected ties to organised crime. It had been big news - he was a well-liked guy, known for his brains and an intense kindness by everyone who met him, and he’d been the head of the biotechnology department developing a new line of prosthetics. By all accounts, he had been the least likely guy to deliberately harm anybody, but then he’d been found guilty of consorting with the mafia.

“What’s he got to do with this?” Cyrus asked.

“He sold company research  _ and  _ materials to the O’Callaghan family. Apparently, he was accused of building weapons for them too, but that part was never proven.”

“So, wait. You think it was him who set off the explosion?”

Buffy shook her head. “No way, he’s still in prison. But if the O’Callaghans had one inside source, who’s to say they don’t have another? Look at these.”

She threw a pile of police reports to them. They all shared the same focus; the O’Callaghans were a fierce syndicate and they’d been growing in power since the early 2000s. According to the reports, it looked like they were aiming to hold a full monopoly on the city’s organised crime sector. And they were managing it.

“They’ve got a lot of artillery,” Buffy said. “More, I think, than any gang would usually. There are reports of fire-fights using tech way beyond the average reach. It’s insane. There’s no way they did this themselves. If they had an inside source, if they knew about the Gamorite, then it’s definitely something they would want. Just imagine what they could do with it.”

Cyrus didn’t want to think about it.

 

*******

 

TJ wandered through the halls like a zombie. It had been months since he’d had a clear head. Even in the bright white of the new labs, everything felt like a hazy dream. It was uncertain when he last slept. Most days he just collapsed at his desk now, waking every so often with a crick in his neck and red marks from the desk imprinted on his face. That was how he’d awoken just ten minutes ago, bolting upright at a clang from outside. The noise had turned out to be one of the early morning janitorial staff clattering down the hall, and when he looked at the clock he realised he’d been there for a full forty-eight hours. His stomach rumbled unpleasantly. He needed food. And coffee. Definitely coffee.

Nobody gave him a second glance as he trudged through. People were starting to filter into the labs now, flicking on the lights at their stations and setting up experiments in the rooms as he passed. He wasn’t the only one who had been there all night, it wasn’t common for people to work late here, but he was the only one in pyjama pants. 

Just a few months ago he would never have been able to get away with it, but these days there was no one to stop him from wasting away in his workshop. No one to look around and take in the chaos of the walls covered in red string, photographs and police reports he’d had to hack into a full system to get at. Nobody to tell him to get some sleep. 

Alec had tried once or twice, but he tended to avoid coming into TJ’s workshop these days. Tj guessed he didn’t like the reminders of the friends he’d lost pasted across every surface.

He was almost to the elevator, autopilot set on getting him back to his lab from the little coffee station in the corner of the building’s lobby when the doors slid open and a new body collided heavily with his.  

“Whoa, sorry!”

Cyrus Goodman had him by the shoulders, the only thing preventing TJ from tumbling down on his butt, and stared at him with wide eyes. A flush crept over his cheekbones as he released TJ, letting him steady himself.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” TJ mumbled, looking down at his pyjamas. It was a good thing he’d ordered an iced coffee - the liquid seeped down his shirt and dripped to the floor, sticking to his skin uncomfortably. Cyrus was still rambling his apologies, offering to buy him another cup of coffee, when he glanced back up at him. It had been months since they’d spoken, and it felt like years, but concern still tugged at TJ’s chest and his own eyes widened when he took in Cyrus’ face properly.

There was a deep purple bruise across the top of his cheekbone and, at some point, he must have split his lip. There were deep bags under his eyes too. He looked like somebody had thrown him face-first into a wall. Without even thinking about it, TJ reached forward to brush gentle fingers across the mark with a frown. Cyrus flinched back. His frown deepened.

“What happened to your face?” His voice came out rough from disuse. 

“Oh, that. Haha,” Cyrus let out a nervous laugh, eyes darting around. “Nothing. I fell. I’m clumsy like that.”

TJ raised an eyebrow in disbelief. It wasn’t exactly a surprise that Cyrus was a bad liar, but the transparency of it was at a new level. He didn’t push, though, no matter how much he wanted to. Cyrus clearly didn’t want to talk about it. They stared at one another for a moment, awkward silence creeping between them, and then Cyrus cleared his throat.

“So… it’s been a while.”

“Yeah.”

“How- uh, you know. How’re you doing?”

His eyes flicked up and down TJ’s form as if he already knew the answer but didn’t want to point out the obvious. Unshaven, unshowered and wearing pyjamas to work. He didn’t exactly give off the impression of a stable person right now.

TJ just shrugged. “Okay as I can be, I guess,” he answered, honestly. “It’s… weird. Being by myself all the time.”

The words came out without his permission, but he was too exhausted for regret. Cyrus’ eyes filled with concern, and maybe a little pity which might have annoyed him if he’d had the energy for it, and his mouth twisted unhappily. He looked away.

“I know what you mean,” he said. “I mean… obviously, I don’t know exactly, but like… it’s strange around here without Max.”

He tried not to flinch and wasn’t wholly successful if Cyrus’ sorry expression was anything to go by. With a start, he realised it had been weeks since anyone had even said Max’s name around TJ. Weeks since anybody had been willing to mention anything to do with his family within earshot. They all thought he was losing it - nobody wanted to tip the scales further.

“Yeah,” TJ agreed again, unsure of what to say. “Well, I’d better, uh-”

He jabbed a finger behind him and turned to go, but Cyrus caught him by the shoulder.

“Hey, wait. Um. I was just… if you ever want to talk,” he stuttered out. “About anything, or like hang out or something, feel free to text me.”

TJ stared at him, trying to gauge if he was being sincere or just saying it for the sake of easing his own conscience like people had a tendency to do. Cyrus held his gaze.

“Okay,” he found himself agreeing. “I will.”

Cyrus gave him a brilliant smile and patted his shoulder, then let him go. As TJ wandered back to the workshop to change into something dry, he found himself thinking about something other than police investigations and bombs for once. Maybe he should take a shower. It would be good to get out of the labs. 

At the end of the hall, Cyrus stared after him, stomach gnawed at by guilt.


End file.
